Culling old laying hens is not the easiest task on the farm. Heck, are there any easy tasks on the farm? (Shaye reflects… Shaye realizes that no, there aren’t any easy tasks on the farm… Shaye moves on with her life.). Heading into the thick of winter, if one has chickens, one must ask themselves:
Remember that beautiful chicken run that we built a few weeks ago? It’s still lovely. The honeysuckle is growing. The chickens are sun bathing. The gardens aren’t being eaten. But. But there are three…four…or five gangsters that refuse to play by the rules. They come out. I throw them back in. They come out again.
I hate free range chickens. There. I said it. Let the stoning begin. But first, perhaps I should clarify. Let’s just say that I lived out in the middle of a seventy three acre pasture. In said pasture, there was nothing but native grasses, and perhaps one bovine. I lived in a hut with no