When you hear the term "Free Range Chickens" you think of happy chickens. Adventurous chickens. Chickens who are free to follow their beaks from plant to bug learning new things as they explore their world. You don't feel as bad eating a chicken who you think has had all the advantages as you do one who has lived her whole life, and a short one at that, in a little box with her beak removed.
Still, Free Range is a marketing term, at least as far as the chickens that live in my yard are concerned. They are more like Free Lounge Chickens. The exercise they get is running like hell to the back door to peck at it until I give them cat food. They have very nice expensive organic chicken food, free run of the compost pile, and a share of whatever fruit I'm having for breakfast but I guarantee you they will forsake all of it for some Seafood Sensation. They might scratch around in a manner that is less than enthusiastic for awhile, but when they hear the front door plans change.
I did not let them out during the big rain storm we just had; they roosted quietly for the whole day, Buck made a couple of hooting noises after I went down to check on them and make sure that they were still alive, that they hadn't committed chicken hara kiri or been eaten by weasels or intoxicated by fumes from the new coop. I couldn't tell if they were sulking, but the hunched shoulders and blank stares made me think they might be. This coop has 6 nice little nesting boxes, more than enough for 4 hens, but this morning when I checked for eggs, there were 8 eggs, all in one box. Did they take turns? Is it like the line to the Ladies Room? Today they had their usual day in the yard, or actually, lying around by the door because I did not as I promised myself I would, get a fence up. Come dusk, they went in by themselves, didn't even try to go to the old shed so I guess they're happy enough.
Still, Free Range is a marketing term, at least as far as the chickens that live in my yard are concerned. They are more like Free Lounge Chickens. The exercise they get is running like hell to the back door to peck at it until I give them cat food. They have very nice expensive organic chicken food, free run of the compost pile, and a share of whatever fruit I'm having for breakfast but I guarantee you they will forsake all of it for some Seafood Sensation. They might scratch around in a manner that is less than enthusiastic for awhile, but when they hear the front door plans change.
I did not let them out during the big rain storm we just had; they roosted quietly for the whole day, Buck made a couple of hooting noises after I went down to check on them and make sure that they were still alive, that they hadn't committed chicken hara kiri or been eaten by weasels or intoxicated by fumes from the new coop. I couldn't tell if they were sulking, but the hunched shoulders and blank stares made me think they might be. This coop has 6 nice little nesting boxes, more than enough for 4 hens, but this morning when I checked for eggs, there were 8 eggs, all in one box. Did they take turns? Is it like the line to the Ladies Room? Today they had their usual day in the yard, or actually, lying around by the door because I did not as I promised myself I would, get a fence up. Come dusk, they went in by themselves, didn't even try to go to the old shed so I guess they're happy enough.
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Glad to hear from you, but criticisms will be ignored. It's the beauty of the web. I will answer all friendly remarks. Buck handles the rest.