We aren't farmers, but we aren't city folk, exactly. Well, we are city folk, born, raised and lived the first part of our adult lives in Boston/Queens/Detroit/New Haven/Providence/Brooklyn, but we live in the country now. Well, it's the country, with farms all around but we live in town, on Main Street. Suffice it to say, we have never owned a dog, much less livestock. We couldn't keep a goldfish or a hamster alive for their natural lifespans, though we've had pretty good luck with cats.
Nonetheless, as the craze for backyard chickens has swept the precincts filled with foodies, locavores, trendhounds, homeschoolers, treehuggers, and just about every other categorizable subgroup, I caught the bug and began longing for chickens of my very own. I contemplated various schemes - house them at a neighbor's, for example - but finally one day just went on Craigslist, found a listing, and jumped in the car. Three hours later, I unloaded six 2-week-old chicks into a blue rubbermaid brooder, tricked out with all the gizmos I could snap up at Tractor Supply Co. Stick with me and get to know Snow White, Bonnie, Shayla, Brunhilde, Dandielion and Lilac, their human and feline companions, and help us shepherd them into happy, egg-laying henhood.
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