Opinion : FPFR: Future Poultry Farmers' Regrets

Grandaughters helped convince Grandpa to allow the Close property to become a poultry farm.

You never know when a phone call is going to change your life.

I walked into the Vinton Family Restaurant as a grandfather, and left as a chicken farmer.

Oh, I am still a grandfather – the admiration that the babies had for baby chicks was part of the reason their mom, grandma and aunts conspired to drag me into the poultry business.

This plot has been in progress for weeks. The chicks are cheap, at Theisen’s. The stuff to feed them at first is pretty cheap. They are easy to raise, a friend told Grandma Close. They are cute, say the babies. Free eggs, said the daughters.

Then on Monday, a friend called during breakfast with the message that he has an old abandoned chicken coop which would be perfect for the flock that the Close females hope to turn into a poultry farm.

After that call, I was out of reasons to offer for not buying chickens. Within an hour, I became the owner of 30 future drumsticks – which most likely, the granddaughters won’t want to eat. Especially if they name the chickens.

Family tradition

My grandparents raised chickens. I remember helping pluck them – and watching Grandpa remove their heads with an axe. (And yes, the phrase “chicken with its head cut off – I have observed this phenomenon in person.)

My brother entered a chicken in a 4-H event, and my dad probably would have raised chickens if city ordinances would have allowed it.

Me, I never wanted to.

I was happy enough working on my property, trying to turn a pasture and wooded area into a nature area.

Now, I have to worry about my dog, cats and a variety of wild animals getting to the chickens – that is, if the chicks manage to survive their first few weeks under the care of a greenhand.

So tonight, when I get home, the sound of 15 creatures chirping will be driving the dog mad. Soon we will try to figure out where to put the coop and how to keep the cats and chickens separated until the chickens are big enough to defend themselves.

This is not the first thing that I have tried that I had previously seen my grandfather and father do. They were successful gardeners; me, not so much.

I expect similar success with this chicken project. The most promising potential I see now is that the tiny birds and the reaction they inspired among the females of this family will inspire future articles.

Just remember: Whatever happens, this was not my idea!