Seeds Sewn Early!

Mindie Dittemore reflects on the wisdom her parents showed when they introduced her to chickens; something which she’s now emulating with her children.

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When I was a young girl, my parents decided to move us to some acreage. Or course, when one lives in the country, one should have livestock, or so my parents believed. It all started with a single rabbit.

Then came the chickens, goats, sheep, more chickens and, oh, did I mention, chickens? I still remember that first peeping box my mother picked up from the post office, containing her order of chicks. It became a ritual each year; my parents would look through the hatchery catalogue and order and, every spring, more chicks would arrive.

Too much work?

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the cute little chicks. But cute little chicks grow. They poop and they have to be cared for. In the summer, I’d be sent out many times to bring them fresh water. In the winter I’d spend my mornings thawing-out frozen watering containers and refilling them before school, only to repeat the process as soon as I came home again. And, of course, it would have to be done again before I went to bed!

I froze my fingers and toes in the winters, and I was simply overwhelmed by the amount of poo all of our critters made. I hated shovelling it in the summer. By the time I went off to get a degree, I was completely over animals. I was going to start a career far, far away from the country…

Fast-forward 30 years and I find myself, once again, taking care of chickens. So how on earth did this happen? Didn’t I vow to get as far away from my farm roots as possible? Well, yes, I did. But sometimes life gives you what you need, not what you want.