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I love my chickens! My life would be an empty shell without my chickens. Okay, that sounds a little extreme, but let me just say that I can’t imagine not having chickens ever again. Chickens are an ever-present delight and a constant source of entertainment. They require relatively little care yet deliver daily in the form of their wonderful eggs (if you can find them). They care nothing about you, but are completely fascinated with you at the same time. I can’t walk across the yard without a pack of chickens around my feet.
If I dropped dead tomorrow, they wouldn’t care, however, as long as someone else showed up with cracked corn. I like to think that is part of their charm.
Of course, I have complete control of my chickens.

I’m going to tell you something that may shock you–I have no idea how many chickens I have.
Something around 50. Probably. Why don’t I know how many chickens I have? I lost count a long time ago. I also free-range my chickens, which means there are mysterious losses–some of which I can account for, and some I can’t. Sometimes chickens just go missing. Sometimes I don’t even know that they went missing.
And that’s because (brace yourself!) my chickens aren’t all named.
I have heard of people that name every single one of their chickens. I’m thinking either their chickens must all be a different breed or else they are far more exacting than I am with their memories. Some of my chickens just look alike. This is particularly true of my purebred chickens. I also have a number of mixed breed chickens, ones I’ve hatched out myself in the incubator, and those are much more easy to differentiate because each mixed breed chicken has a more unique appearance.
I love every single one of my chickens, but I can’t always tell them apart. Free-ranging is also a mixed bag, because it exposes the chickens to some risk, but overall I am a fan of free-ranging and will always do it. A chicken who free ranges is a healthier chicken (in my opinion) and a happier chicken. On the other hand, I also understand that not everyone is in the position to free-range. It depends on many factors whether or not this is a viable option, but for us, in our 40-acre farm in the middle of nowhere, it works well. We lose very few chickens to predators (knock on wood) and many of them even roost out at night. Some like to come back to the chicken house, some don’t. The ones that don’t will roost on the goat pen gates, and I believe the presence of other, larger, animals acts as a form of protection for them as we lose very few.
Some chickens do reach out and grab my attention, making themselves known in a unique way. Those chickens do end up named and I become extra attached to them (which is occasionally heartbreaking).
A few of the chickens I’ve loved and lost include my dear, sweet little banty hen who only wanted to be a mother.

The Funky Chicken disappeared soon after being released to free-range. (The most dangerous period of time for a chicken is in the days following their release as they learn the ropes of the free-range life.)

I really liked her, so that was upsetting.
And then there was the irreplaceable, the frightening, the love-to-hate-him Mean Rooster.

I still miss him and can’t believe he’s gone. Or believe I was so attached to a rooster that frequently tried to kill me.
Sometimes they like to stretch out on the grass and pretend they’re dead. They just do that to annoy me.

Then there’s the Crooked Little Hen…..

….who continues to breeze through life like the beauty queen she is.
And her boyfriend, Mr. Hyde.

Crooked and her Mister are both doing well. Mister is mostly on his own these days as Crooked is sitting on a nest in the goat pen. (We’ll see what comes of that! I’ve yet to have a hen sit on a successful nest.)
A nestful of crooked little blue eggs.

Spartacus, my little banty rooster, was one of my first chickens to really steal the show with his personality.

“Prepare to die.” He’s still around, and still wishing I’d get some more banties so he’d have somebody his own size.
And then there’s Lucky, who was actually my very first chicken. She was the miracle chick who hatched out of a batch in the incubator that was accidentally overheated. She’s a cheerful hen and a good layer.

She’s the unassuming queen of the chickens.

And a little bit….scraggly.

I think she’s been letting herself go since Mean Rooster died.
One of the most frequently asked questions around here is–why is this website called Chickens in the Road? Especially since our house is so far away from the road, our chickens are never in the road. Back when I was driving around looking at property and fantasizing about having my own farm, I was out on some little country back road. One of those narrow one-lane roads dotted with farms, tangled up in woods interspersed with meadows and falling-down barns, homes few and far between. The kind of place where you come across chickens in the road–and it’s actually quite safe, because the road is so far out from nowhere. It is that country. I said, “I want to live some place where I can have chickens in the road.”

To me, “chickens in the road” symbolizes a lot of things that I wanted to create in my life, not simply the literal meaning. (Chickens don’t really wander very far–my chickens have been, on occasion, as far as down to the bottom of our driveway, but I’ve never seen them go any further.) Chickens in the road, in my mind, is a lifestyle. One of these days, I may talk my chickens into taking a stroll in the road while I take pictures. You know, if I can get them to cooperate.
But don’t count on it.

I did a post here about the basics of keeping chickens if you’re thinking about starting your own flock.
See the archive of all my chicken posts here.
See all my posts in the “Cast of” series here.
Posted by Suzanne McMinn on June 22, 2010Registration is required to leave a comment on this site. You may register here. (You can use this same username on the forum as well.) Already registered? Login here.
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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3:58
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I love the symbolism of your blog name ~ Makes me long for my own country life and country living. For now, I enjoy reading about yours. :-)
6:39
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I am surprised you have not had a broody hen hatch some eggs. It’s the coolest thing on earth to watch a mother hen teach and protect her chicks! I hope CLH gives you that opportunity. (And I hope she’s not really sitting on her own eggs, passing on her genetic flaw!)
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9:27
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My chickens DO get into the road…so I love the title of your site.
9:27
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We live on 2 1/2 acres pretty much surrounded by dairy farms and fields so we fit right in! We started by buying my BIL’s old garden shed and moving it next to our storage building. With lots of hard work by my wonderful hubby, some paint and picking up items on craigslist, we now have an awesome coop, run, and automatic pop door!! I’ve been rambling long enough, here is a link to my facebook album with the pictures of the process!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=52870&id=1643377300&l=dc71626b3c
Thanks for the inspiration!!!
Next time I’ll tell you all about the soap I’ve made!
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I just got my very first chicks in April of this year (just 1 doz) and they have been a joy! They are so relaxing and comical to watch. I just laugh watching a chicken run. lol
I let mine free-range as well. They have a building we chase them into at night and we just let them out in the morning. They free-range all day. We don’t have any fenced in area for them at all. Eventually I want a fenced in area attached to their building, but we’ve just been too busy.
So do your chickens just wander into their building at night by themselves? Do you shut it up? Or just leave it open for them go in and out as they please?
We usually chase ours in and shut it up for the night. I do worry about predators getting to them at night.
I plan to let mine free-range the majority of the time too. I just love looking out and seeing them pecking and scratching around. They really do add “something” to a farm.
11:19
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Susan
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I don’t feel bad about not having names for all our chickens. It is so hard to name them when they look so much alike and the only differences are noticed when they are standing next to each other, lie that one is bigger than the other one or that one has a black feather on her belly. I think it would be easier to name them if they wore nametags, but they don’t seem too interested in putting one on. Darn it.
What happened to Mean Rooster? He sure was an imposing creature!
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Loved your photos. Especially Spartacus. Made me chuckle.
We are going to let ours free-range, too, and they won’t be named either.
Loved hearing about your chickens.
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We live in the city, and the rules (ha!) limit us to 3 hens, no roosters. Well we incubated and hatched out 9 little banty eggs (that I found on Craigs List) last month and are now 13 chickies strong.
We won’t be flouting the law for long though, we’ve put an offer on our own CITR-style little farm house, just up the road a piece, and just out of city limits.
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I have recently acquired several bronze turkeys. Our goal is to have fresh turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. We have lost two of my original five. I did not realize that you should not keep turkeys on the same pasture that you keep chickens on. We have made some adjustments and the remaining three seem to be thriving.
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Bantys are addicting! We started a small flock of them this spring. They are such fun, endearing little things.
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I’m confused about the “looking” or “shopping” for land comment. I thought your farm was part of your family’s land? Stringtown and all. You actually had to hunt for land? You didn’t inherit? Your characters in your novels would have. Anyway, however you came by it, I’m glad you did. It keeps me sane while I am stuck on my little 10th of an acre, trying to figure out where I can cram one more bucket of tomatoes.
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Marilyn