“Ci-D-Gurl” turned Southern Bell Farmer

Welcome to the Chicken Coop Chronicles #1!

Hi! If you have not stopped by and briefed my bio, Ima Black History Fact from Detroit who now resides in Georgia. Since many of my peoples have suggested I chronicalize my experience caring for chickens, after today, I too am convinced that I will need to reflect back at some point in time on how I made it over.

To frame the story, before picking up and leaving the Midwest to set-up camp in the South, the low country that is, I had a desire to become self-sufficient; able to feed myself and own my health to control my own longevity of life, so to speak. To be clear, I know who holds the future. I just have some influence on the future based on what I do NOW. Thank You Lord for allowing me some input.

Before moving to Georgia in 2022, I left Detroit after Covid headed to Texas where I had an eye opening experience on a local farm. This experience, although somewhat felt “Get Out“ish, actually kicked my hunger for raw foods into gear. So much so, I began begging God to connect me with a community where I could learn how to garden, for real.

And He did. #ForeverGrateful

After meeting the Sista turned SistaFriend, who would often share pictures of the beautiful deep colored greens she was getting from a friend’s garden, I had to ask, “From where are you getting these greens and how can I get connected?” She connected me to my now, Gardening Mentor.

“How does this connect to the chickens?” Novice gardener here, who only picked beans from the garden behind her Grandparents house on the Eastside of Detroit with her Grandmother as a child, is grasping this learning experience through the work. A year of sowing and harvesting more than I can eat alone, I see how trusting the process is essential and developmental. Hence, my growth to hosting chickens.

The Chickens.

One day in the garden, I’m sharing with my Gardening Mentor how I’ve seen two wild chickens over a period of time hanging out in the fields along the road who have now made their way into my community. Mr. Owens, seeing the “blessing” in their freedom says something to the degree, “God’s trying to tell you something.” In my reply, I share how I am not interested in taking something that does not belong to me, wild or free. I respond, “If God wants me to have chickens, he will give them to me.” #NextTopic

He did.

Preparing to sit down and begin class, one day I look out of my window and see a rooster in my neighbors yard, who actually has chickens. I inform my class that I need to warn my neighbor her rooster is loose. Simultaneously, we both come out of our homes and meet. “Hey! I was just about to come over and let you know your rooster is out.” To my surprise she says, “He’s not mine!”  We conclude he’s one of the wild chickens I’ve seen along the path. Days later, I make my way across the street to confer if we should be concerned with wild chickens in our community. You know, HOA stuff, only to learn that her family is leaving the state and are getting rid of their chickens because they can’t go with. Immediately, I hear Mr. Owens voice in my head and I offer to buy a few from her, if she’s willing. She offers to give me two hens and a rooster.

It’s destiny.

From that moment on, operation chicken coop was at play, which took about three maybe four weeks to completion inclusive of protecting from predators (i.e. guarding the perimeter with snake-away, moth balls, and lime).

Once everything was ready for the new tenants to move in, we walked the chickens over yesterday morning. By late afternoon, my adoptees  showed me exactly what they thought of their clean space. My neighbor warned me that they would do some rearranging based on their needs. “Okay!”, I thought. Once I saw with my own eyes, I was not impressed with their  rearrangement.

Yes, I know, I’m talking about chickens. They still have an awareness. I figured tomorrow I’ll spend some time with the chickens to become further acquainted by having a proper greeting. This meant having food in my hand to feed them and softly saying hello to each of them by name. Well, Mr. Victor was awaiting my arrival. He crowed all night and all morning. Like a new mother with a new baby, I got out of my bed twice with a flashlight to see if there were any predators outside to cause this rooster to be highly irritated. According to Google, roosters crow at night when there is a predator around, noises, light, or they are simply irritated. Now of course, I’m aware that he just transitioned from his home to a strange place. Change can be burdensome. Give it some time. But all night?

The next day, after leaving the garden, I’m already dressed properly and am focused on becoming acquainted with my new babies. I slow and calmly enter into the coop, saying hello to everyone by name. Victor is more front and centered because “he’s the man” and he apparently wanted me to know who is in control. I speak to Victor, leaning down to share the food in the container I brought to greet him with a gift. He eats. I follow his mouth while guiding him lower with the cup, softly saying, “There ya go. Good boy.” And before I know it this rooster pecks the heck out of my leg. Twice! I’m so caught off guard that I react. “Don’t you peck me! NO!” And he pecks me again! I’m pissed. I came in peace. And now I’m fighting with a rooster trying to back my way out of this coop before I’m fully attacked.

Stay tuned to how Victor and I meet again…