Chapter 10

THE LAND

We had other poultry after the pheasant venture also before moving up to THE LAND. We thought about having our own eggs, got an assortment of chickens from Agway… some of which were supposed to be Rhode Island Reds, which were supposed to be good layers. But the only thing I remember about those chickens was how tough they were when we ended up having them slaughtered for meat (guess we thought they weren‘t good layers… Especially the roosters). For some reason we were having a guest over when we had our first home grown chicken barbeque, and I was embarrassed for the chicken being like eating chicken flavored string wrapped around chicken bones.

But having the land was a promise and an escape. Although we had great neighborhood which regularly had block parties, it was still suburbia, and we longed for the country. Our second group of chickens were meant just for meat, as they were capons. I hadn’t realized that they’d mature and be ready for market so fast that their bone and muscular development could not keep up. So when they got so heavy that they went lame, I thought they had some kind of malformation. We had them all slaughtered, and had to await company before roasting up one of them, as there was hardly a one that wasn’t over eight pounds. And those were less than 3 months old. We were to later find out that the capons were usually ready for market at 8 weeks, and if kept too long, they went lame. Still, that was to be the last time we raised capons. We settled on getting the white Cornish Giants type of meat bird were also ready for market at six to eight weeks old, and were subject to heart attacks if not slaughtered by then. By the time we had the Cornish giants, we were then living at the land. I raised those lovely chickens for years and years, giving them tender loving care for their sweet short lives. I had a nice coop lined with hay and straw. Since I had electricity wired to the coop, I’d have light on for a few hours in the evenings for my Aracauna layers. We had two sides to the pen, and had a portable tape player in the outer coop earlier when we had raised bob whites, over wintering them and had released them in the spring. We had recorded their “bob-white” call to have them come back in for the night, which brought a few back, then fewer, then none came back, but we were hopeful that they survived. We kept the old radio-tape player combo out in the pen, and would sometimes would put music on for the enjoyment of the fowl.

The Cornish Giants would go outside for the day and just waddle about, and sit down hard and stay there for the day trimming the grass and enjoying the sun on their feathers and trays of food and water nearby for their dining pleasure. They were placid and happy campers. They had the best of lives, and whereas they would die anyways if not slaughtered for meat, I was saddened to see them go at that point of the summer, but knew I’d given them a good life. They were the funniest birds aside from one white New Holland White turkey I had named Jenny-O.

Our first summer at The Land we wanted it all at once, as we had looked forward to this adventure for six years. We got 6 Aracauna chickens; 6 Khaki Campbell ducks; 6 turkeys (4 Bronze breasted and 2 white); and 2 Toulouse geese.

The funny thing about having all those fowl together as chicks, they got along just fine. It was before the coop was built, so we had them all in what is now the woodshed, with many joined extension cords leading to it up from the garage for a warming light while they were still chicks. They were all one big happy family, getting along so well together it kind of busted up that slogan of “birds of a feather flock together”. I just accepted their ways the first year, but late summer, we were all eating out on the back porch. Our daughter and husband with us. And just before sunset, a female mallard flew over the pond, circled around and came down to size it up. We thought, “Wow, wouldn’t that be neat if this wild duck joined our motley crew of fowl…” and just as we were discussing this, all our birds in tandem got up from their roosting and calm positions, taking a fighting stance, and went after this poor little mallard like she was an opposing gang member horning in on their territory.

I began to study the fowl like an anthropologist, and could see rudiments of human behavior in these birds, even though they were so different from mammals. I've seen it myself when straying into a new neighborhood as a child and the local children pelted us with rocks...while we fleed for our lives, though none of us got injured from the stones. The birds did group according to species, but got along with the familiar that they had been brought up with together. I think if children are socialized so that they realize that their world is bigger than their neighborhood or schoolyard, that their differences are only skin deep, they become more accepting of their uniqueness.

The simplicity of country life with its take-your-time pace was good for me at a time in my life when all our children were on their own, and our greatest responsibility was to feed the chickens and walk the dogs; to care for the garden vegetables and water the flowers; to shovel the walks and plow the driveway in the winter; and to remember and acknowledge the children's and spouses and grandchildren's birthdays. To have family visit, and visit family. It's a good life.