Well there they are, my small flock of chickens; two hens, one rooster or maybe two roosters. (Update: well they were two roosters and a hen...the pullet was killed by a hawk Thanksgiving day 2009...the roosters names are Abbot and Costello...yes they eat out of my hand and they are pets)
The chicks, about 3/4 grown, are difficult to sex. But the two chickens on the right keep fighting so I am guessing they are both roosters. We'll see how it goes. The crowing will be a giveaway. I already have begun to receive petitions from my local chicken's rights people (my daughter) to spare the young roosters life (the white chicken in the foreground). We will have to see how things work out but I may be eating a nice bowl of my wife's chicken soup this winter. Hopefully the chicken right behind the young rooster is a hen...I am doubtful since he/she keeps fighting with the already identified rooster. Fried chicken on a sunday may be in the future. Hmmm.
Slaughtering a chicken or even cleaning an egg became something best left to "farmers". Farmers now yoked with the responsibility of delivering immense quantities of food to customers, who could not be bothered to grow or process their own food, had no options, in most cases, but to industrialize to meet demand. In the case of chickens this led to the development of industrial production, small cages and large flocks of thousands of birds on their way to lay eggs, the frying pan, roasting pan or stew pot. Collectively the people kept their hands "clean" but collectively, excuse the pun, we had grown too far from the chickens head. We had lost our connection to an important source of food. Despite my rhetoric I also have a soft spot for my two roosters...but if I wanted some fresh chicken soup I always know where to look!
The chicken might be considered an icon for the dilema of a high demand for food but a limited desire to participate in the production of that food. For decades it appeared that the reluctance to grow one's own food was a permanent part of American society. Yet, under the surface a supressed desire percolated at a gut level. A desire to reconnect with food. This desire has lead to the chicken slowly and sometimes secretively making its way back into the backyards of homes all across the industrialized world.
My own life history runs parallel with the fall and rise of the suburban chicken. I lived in places where chickens were forbidden and growing up raising farm animals for decades there was an empty place in my life, a loss of a connection and a missing of the ability to raise something at your home that becomes a meal. Vegetable gardens provided some relief but the relief was shortlived as I opened up yet another styrofoam carton of yellow yolked factory eggs. But today my chickens are leading me out of nearly 40 years of wandering in the food wilderness.
I urge you to follow me and the thousands of others participating what I like to call the Chicken Renaissance. Once you place that first bite of omelet in your mouth, like me, you will once again feel reconnected with food.
Comments or questions? Email me at jim@redbayfarm.com
