Escape Artists

I understand free-ranging. I do. You set the animals free, they eat, they get fat. You don’t have to feed them grain or hay. And, best of all, it doesn’t matter if they escape because they are already free.

Escaped Chickens

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Growing Up and Moving Out

Something occurred to me this morning while I stood hunched over an inch of slippery, slimy chicken poop in the bottom of a kiddie pool, grabbing madly for 51 chicks desperate to not be caught.  This is why nobody wants to be a farmer any more.  There I was, splattered with manure, on the verge of falling on my face, while the rest of the world snored away. Continue reading Growing Up and Moving Out