Chickens

I grew up smack dab in the middle of a mid-sized city, but was fortunate to have a surrogate-grandfather that saw to it that my brothers and I were exposed to the more agrarian side of life. My mom is from northern Wyoming- full-on cattle country; and my dad (who is from the same city as I) had allusions of cowboydom- so they encouraged this pastoral peek. We spent weekends on "the farm" riding horses, planting acre-gardens, and all those lovely things one does on a farm. But one summer, my dad and "Grandpa," as we lovingly called him, hatched a scheming plan to raise chickens. I won't delve too deeply into the details, suffice to say that "a few" chickens was actually 80, mutant-Cornish hens that topped the scales at 10 pounds when they finally broke through the bottom of the pen and ran amok in our backyard (which is quite large). It is one of my fondest memories. Plucking chickens is not a skill that most "city girls" can add to their c.v. I, however, was fortunate to get the chance.


But now that we are making a move to our own farm, I am thinking chickens again. Not 80, and not freakishly large Cornish hens either... No, I am thinking nothing but haute couture will do. I am looking at the fancy chickens!


I want beautiful, rainbow colored eggs, for chickens so plumed and coiffed they look like they just walked a Paris runway. Chickens like this one.......
Isn't she beautiful?
Mind you, our chickens will not be eaten.
They will be for egg-ing only.
I am looking at: Easter Eggers; Ameraucana (though these are apparently difficult to find); Andalusian; Wyandotte;a Leghorn or two(for the cartoon association); a white chicken of some sort (for the W.C. Williams poem The Red Wheelbarrow).
Yeah...chickens.
You will be very lucky if you live close to us and come to visit.
:)