Spring in the Catskills has warmed up sufficiently to begin translating vegetable garden plans into vegetable garden reality. I asked my nine-year-old granddaughter, Josephine Hope, to join me on a trip to Agway, our nearest farm and garden store, while I picked up some seed potatoes and onion sets. Part of my request was self-serving; Josephine is old enough to count out and bag potatoes and onions, thereby saving me time and making the trip more efficient.
What I was aware of but paid little attention to is the fact that the next-door neighbors to the Tuber and Allium families on the Agway display floor were baby chicks, yellow and fluffy under heat lamps. There were only a few, as they were mostly sold out. But there are more on order, which led to the inevitable question, “Granddad, can we get one? They’re so cute.” Or the question behind the question…some more?
I was quick to remind Josephine that the family dog, Archie, had dispatched two of her uncle Harrison’s full-grown chickens upon a family visit to Harrison’s rural home. Harrison maintains a flock of chickens, along with his vegetable garden, making maple syrup, harvesting honey from his bee hives, and in some years raising pigs.
His is an admirable display of self-sufficiency. All the more reason to be upset when Archie sprang from the family van immediately upon arrival, exercised her canine instinct, and instantly killed two birds. No stone involved.
While not alone among our family in this trait, Josephine exhibits a persistence that can range from irritating to admirable depending upon one’s point of view and the occasion. Upon our arrival back home, Josephine sprang Archie-like from the car and dashed inside to persuade her mother of the benefits of a feathered family flock. There was no need for my rendition of our store trip by the time I walked into the house. Her mother, Elizabeth, already knew, as Josephine wasted no time in her bid to convince her mother about the charm of the chicks and the urgent imperative to move on to the acquisition of one/some at the next available opportunity. Agway would continue to restock until sometime in early May. I reiterated to Elizabeth my concern that Archie and the young birds might not be the best match. More to the point, a match that would end badly for the chickens and yield a flood of juvenile human tears.
Somewhat to my surprise Josephine’s father, Johnny, informed me that after a discussion during the family’s dinner, Josephine had been given the green light for chicken adoption. This would be no single-chick operation. Agway sells a minimum of six birds.
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I began to catalog problems. Where on the family property sloping down to the Beaverkill River could they locate a henhouse? Would a moveable henhouse be a good idea? What would Archie’s role in all this be? Guard dog or predator? There is no lack of natural predators in the neighborhood: coyotes, foxes, bobcats, weasels, mink, raccoons, opossums, skunks, rodents, and snakes. Not to mention aerial attacks from hawks, owls, and the bald eagles that patrol up and down the river.
Josephine had given consideration to these issues and promptly called her Uncle Harrison for his advice. Her father also had some questions for Harrison. I continued to worry and used the internet to seek answers to some of my questions about housing in particular.
Later in the evening, still concerned about the quick demise of cute, fluffy, yellow birds or later on if they managed to reach something approximating adulthood, I called my brother to solicit his thoughts. He informed me that Josephine had already contacted him, full of thoughtful questions. Johnny, too, wanted to hear what Harrison had to say.
Harrison appreciated my concerns about chicken welfare and the potential for upset girls. He was, after all, none too happy when Archie murdered two of his flock. Those killings had both emotional and financial ramifications, as two egg-producing hens were now lost for good.
Harrison is also a teacher and a coach. He reminded me of potential lessons that could be learned in this venture. Some good, some perhaps painful. Raising chickens, like the vegetable gardens we have in common comes with a mix of success, frustration, and failure. He suggested to me that the potential for learning was far more important than trying to protect Josephine from emotional upset. The value of experience over being sheltered. It made me think of the young farmers at the annual Delaware County Fair. Each year they exhibit animals they’ve raised, are proud of, and I daresay emotionally engaged to at some level. Soon after the fair in August those animals will be sold for slaughter. Life goes on. There will be more piglets, chicks, bunnies, lambs, and calves to nurture and learn from.
In the end, there may be just one chicken in this story…an over-protective grandfather forgetting what his granddaughter might learn, even at the potential expense of some pain. I take comfort in knowing someone cares about this old bird. It was earlier in the same day when Josephine’s five-year-old sister, Willa, asked me, “Granddad, when are you going to die?”
