This post makes me a little sad to write. 3 years ago, during Covid, we took on 6 chickens that a church friend was giving away. I was not on board with Matt's idea, but the boys loved it. I loved the idea of fresh eggs, and it didn't take long before I was kind of attached to the chickens. With 6 of us in the family, we each took a chicken and named it. Matt- Buttermilk, me- Dixie, Caleb- Speckled Flogs (I don't have an explanation...), Carter- Nugget, Bryson- Fluffles, Austin- Batman. It was fun to see their little personalities, different egg colors, size of eggs, etc. Batman was the first to die, we think by a raccoon. Austin was so distraught that we replaced her, against our better judgment. We learned a lot about integrating a new chicken into the flock. It was a rough transition for Midnight! Buttermilk was the next to die. She caught some sort of disease. Fluffles caught the same disease months later and passed. Nugget always laid the biggest eggs, and she died randomly in the roosting nest--we think laying an egg! After 3 years, the boys had lost all interest in helping with the chickens. I was tired of chicken poop and flies. We found someone interested in taking them. Speckled Flogs and Dixie held up the longest from our original 6.
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Final farewell. (Speckled is molting)
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Past pictures:
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The day we got them |
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Fluffles always was the one that did best with people holding her. |
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Selling the eggs was a nice little side business for the boys for about a year and a half when we couldn't consume the amount of eggs laid. |
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A Nugget egg compared to a particularly small one from one of the other white chickens |
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Carter had a really good relationship with all the chickens. |
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