It’s Raining Hen(s), Hallelujah! Unstoppable Woman? – Day 17
My husband and I visited my brother and sister-in-law yesterday. They raise chickens. They are not farmers nor have they ever been; my brother is in construction and my sister-in-law is a teacher. They bought some acreage on the top of a mountain a couple of years ago, and decided to become more self-sufficient. So they raise chickens. As of yesterday, they have about 45 of them.
Ordinarily this would not be newsworthy – except for the fact that it was the second time yesterday that chickens had been a topic of conversation for me. (I never talk about chickens unless I am talking to my brother or sister-in-law.) Yesterday morning when we were at the local lumber yard, Knowles Lumber, one of the owners mentioned to me that he had been really busy all summer building chicken coops. For people in Freeport. And Windham. And other towns in southern Maine. Now, southern Maine is not where I would envision people raising chickens; it is in fact the more heavily populated, urban part of Maine.
Curious.
Of course, when I got home last night I had to do some research. Did you know there is an “Urban Chicken Movement” in the United States? (I didn’t know this!) It’s becoming ever popular for people to have backyard flocks of chickens. Now, to my (backward?) way of thinking, chickens = country, chickens ≠ city. Surprise! I found a report on “Illicit Urban Chicken Movement Growing in US” . I also found news reports from Kansas City, Boston, and NEW YORK CITY(!!!!) that people in those locales are raising chickens in their backyards. I even found an article at Newsweek.com called The New Coop de Ville about urban poultry farming. It seems people everywhere are trying to become more self-sufficient. 
For the past couple of years I’ve been chuckling at my sibling (and sibling-in-law) because I think it’s cute that they really like their chickens. But yesterday while their feeding chickens, I actually considered getting some. (They are kind of cute. And I have to admit, the fresh eggs are REALLY GOOD.)
(SORRY FOR THIS NEXT PART. I CAN'T HELP MYSELF.)
Now I’m feeling caught with egg on my face. The yolks on me; I can’t cackle because I haven’t laid. It seems that not everything is what it’s cracked up to be. I guess I need to quit my squawking and feather my own nest, take up with the chickens and gather a nest egg. After all, I can’t be fussing like an old hen because a whistling girl and a crowing hen will always come to some bad end. I don’t want to be a dumb cluck because birds of a feather flock together. I’m hatching an idea; it’s coming home to roost. I’m not counting my chickens before they’re hatched; I’m sure it’s more than it’s cracked up to be.
All joking aside, I think I’m going to stick my neck out and get some chickens.
I am curious though…has anyone in an urban area shown a home where there were chickens in the backyard?
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