Still not convinced by my cautions against backyard chicken farming? Better read this
If you’ve read my cautionary tale about the folly of trying to save money on eggs through backyard chicken farming, and you still want to do it, I’d like to share one more thought to consider.
Think of your heart.
I’m serious. You may have a beloved dog or cat, and you don’t think you’ll fall under the spell of mere chickens, but you will.
You will love them, and they will break your heart.
My husband, Joe, shakes his head and admonishes himself for not thinking through how attached I’d be to our chickens, but the truth is, he is, too.
Much like many men I’ve met who have surprised me when they go on about chicken personalities and how sweet or feisty they can be, Joe showed again and again how he considered our hens to be part of the family.
One of the best gifts he’s ever given me was when he wrote an obituary for my sweet Pepper, one of our first chickens — the one who was most like me and the one I will think of till the day I die. Not to be too dramatic. But please read this obituary as one final word of warning.
Pepper Marie Rengers Stumpe flew the coop for the last time Monday, June 8, 2020.
She was a curious chicken who experienced many adventures, starting with her trip home from the Yoder Poultry Auction in a cardboard box. That love of travel remained as she often ventured into neighbors’ yards — drawing admiration from North Riverside residents and a bit of irritation from a next-door neighbor who did not appreciate Pepper’s rearrangement of her mulch.
During her adventures, yes, she even crossed the road. (No one knows why.)
A Plymouth Rock hen with barred black-and-white plumage and a bright red comb, Pepper ruled the roost lightly for four years, rarely pecking more than was necessary to maintain order. Familiar to many from star turns in the Wichita Eagle and social media, she enjoyed being held by family and visitors alike — when she could be caught.
She was a good scratcher, uprooting many a garden plant, and a better-than-average layer in her spring chicken years. She produced medium-size, light brown eggs with yellow-orange yolks that were a foodie’s dream.
She survived backyard attacks by dogs, raccoons, opossum and foxes. She treated a trip to the Indian Hills Animal Clinic like it was a day spa, and on another occasion she got to know many exotic cousins while being examined for a mistaken case of bumblefoot in far-off southeastern Sedgwick County. She was not a picky eater but did enjoy snacks of watermelon, spoon-fed yogurt, corn on the cob and especially dried mealworms.
Pepper taught her city-raised folks much about real life and more than lived up to her nickname — “Sweet Pepper.”
She was preceded in death by Lil’ Hen and Tulip and is survived by Spivey, Slim (Shady) and Ana (Ameraucana). They know that wherever Pepper is, she is investigating what’s on the other side of the fence.
This story was originally published February 23, 2023 at 4:47 AM.