Tag Team Chicken Fight - Free Range Chickens
A rule change under the Obama Administration, required egg producers using the label “USDA Organic” to provide real outdoor space for hens, rather than enclosed porches. The Trump administration just reversed that.
The only animal I feel comfortable farming are Chickens and that is because I grew up farming Chickens. It was my responsibility, to make sure they were fed and watered and to make sure they were safe and sound in their coops at nights. In the mornings before heading out to school it was my job to let them out of the coop, then feed and water them. The reaction you get in the mornings as you walk towards their coop is second to none, as they started going crazy with anticipation of being let out, to run free. Feathers fluffed and shake, some run for a dirt or sun bath, others run around flapping their wings, taking brief flight. Then after a while the hens would go back in one by one to lay their eggs. Animals need to roam, to feel free to forage for food. Happy hens will lay about 1 egg every 24 hours, like clockwork. One day I came home to find only sticks remaining of my wonderful callaloo. They some how got into the garden and ate the lot.
It was also my job to collect the eggs and my job to sell these eggs when people in the neighborhood came to buy them. This was a job I did with pride, except on one occasion when one of the hens laid her eggs under the house. It was my job to go under the house and collect these eggs but on that day both the hen and the roaster did not want that to happen.
She wanted to make baby chickens and I wanted to eat her eggs for breakfast. There I was crawling under the house towards where she had made a nest and I realized that she was not running away but fluffed up her feathers in an aggressive way. I moved towards her and she attacked, feet first, I pulled up myself knocking my head on the floor above. She attacked over and over and I tried my best to fight her off but she was attacking from every angle, it was confusing. It got even worse when the roaster decided to join in and I was tagged teamed by both the Hen and the Roaster.
I was about 9 years of age and I can still remember like it was yesterday, I was crying my eyes out. However, I cannot remember how I made my escape and I still have the scars to show for it. Being beaten up by two birds in a confined space is no fun. Not to mention I ended up cutting my wrist on a broken glass, all the way across just missing my veins and almost needed stitches. What made everything worse was the teasing I got from my uncles. My uncles had a field day with that, imagine a chicken farmer, the person who feed and look after the chickens, being beaten up by his chickens.
The only animal I feel comfortable farming are Chickens and that is because I grew up farming Chickens. It was my responsibility, to make sure they were fed and watered and to make sure they were safe and sound in their coops at nights. In the mornings before heading out to school it was my job to let them out of the coop, then feed and water them. The reaction you get in the mornings as you walk towards their coop is second to none, as they started going crazy with anticipation of being let out, to run free. Feathers fluffed and shake, some run for a dirt or sun bath, others run around flapping their wings, taking brief flight. Then after a while the hens would go back in one by one to lay their eggs. Animals need to roam, to feel free to forage for food. Happy hens will lay about 1 egg every 24 hours, like clockwork. One day I came home to find only sticks remaining of my wonderful callaloo. They some how got into the garden and ate the lot.
Free Range Eggs on A Bed of Weed!
It was also my job to collect the eggs and my job to sell these eggs when people in the neighborhood came to buy them. This was a job I did with pride, except on one occasion when one of the hens laid her eggs under the house. It was my job to go under the house and collect these eggs but on that day both the hen and the roaster did not want that to happen.
She wanted to make baby chickens and I wanted to eat her eggs for breakfast. There I was crawling under the house towards where she had made a nest and I realized that she was not running away but fluffed up her feathers in an aggressive way. I moved towards her and she attacked, feet first, I pulled up myself knocking my head on the floor above. She attacked over and over and I tried my best to fight her off but she was attacking from every angle, it was confusing. It got even worse when the roaster decided to join in and I was tagged teamed by both the Hen and the Roaster.
I was about 9 years of age and I can still remember like it was yesterday, I was crying my eyes out. However, I cannot remember how I made my escape and I still have the scars to show for it. Being beaten up by two birds in a confined space is no fun. Not to mention I ended up cutting my wrist on a broken glass, all the way across just missing my veins and almost needed stitches. What made everything worse was the teasing I got from my uncles. My uncles had a field day with that, imagine a chicken farmer, the person who feed and look after the chickens, being beaten up by his chickens.
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