A Week in Chickens

It's easy for me to get busy and not spend much time with the girls. My day job and six-year-old take up a lot of my time during the week. On top of that one of my son's chores is to check for eggs every day, so there are days when it's not necessary for me to go out to the coop at all. My husband has a more flexible work schedule, so he often has time in the mornings to let the girls out and spend some time with them in the yard. I generally let myself get tied up in household chores and wrangling my son into doing homework and taking a bath and all those types of fun things. So for a week I made a conscious effort to go out and spend at least a little time with the flock. It was some much needed therapy for me. I always enjoy sitting with them and watching them peck around their run or in the yard. I never get tired of watching them even three years into having hens. Here's some of our week. 

Monday: We had corn on the cob for dine and so did the girls. They love corn cobs. They can clean them off better than anything I've ever seen. No kernel is safe. 

There's Erickson in the front and Pouncey in the back.

Ocho and Belle are getting in on the action

Tuesday: I brought some scraps out for the little ladies spent some time sitting in the door to the back side of the run. I was quite popular. The Food Lady always is.

The hens and I. You know, like the King and I? 

Wednesday: Three little eggs all in a row. Thanks, girls!

The eggs were just like this when I found them. 

Their reward for the eggs. Sandwich crusts left by my six-year-old and some strawberry tops.

Thursday: Three of the flock. Now where are the others?

There they are. Caught in the act!

Friday: My little helper came out tonight to check for eggs. He wanted to check off one of his chores for the day. 

Saturday: A little treat. One of their favorites, cabbage. They aren't quite sure of it on the ground though. I usually put it in a suet feeder that I hang from the hardware cloth on the inside of the run. This hunk was too big to fit though, so on the ground it went. I checked a little later and it was gone, so they didn't mind floor food too much.

I just pitter pattered out there to see what they were up to and brought them some more cabbage. I went out barefoot, but in my dress pants from work. Now, that's my definition of urban chicken farming.