(Lew kicks off our 2012 blogging season with one of his "True Farm Stories.")
Whenever we are showing folks around the farm or giving a
tour explaining how we grow chicken, I am almost always asked the following,
“Do you have any problem with predators eating your chickens?” I used to give a nice, politically correct,
unemotional response and control the emotions boiling over as images of wily,
nasty predators attacking my defenseless birds came to mind. The past year I decided to just tell folks
plainly how it was. Why should we try to
give the predators a pass? I have no
problems with predators and fully understand their integral role in maintaining
a bio-diverse farm. However, when an
individual decides to cross the line, action must be taken. Last night was such a night.
With only one full day left until we “dress” (or more appropriately
“undress”) the year’s first batch of broilers, anticipation was mounting. Usually the first batch of broilers grows a
little slower, and these boys and girls were no exception. They had been a very good group to raise,
with almost no culls or deaths to speak of which, is really something given the
number of chickens we are raising.
Unlike the chicken purchased at a grocery store—organic or conventional,
“free range” (Ha!) or confined—our birds are truly free to roam around the
pasture we give them, which may be as small as a ¼ acre or as large as 5+
acres. It really depends on whether we are trying to fertilize an area for a
future crop or have them out on bug control in an orchard. Either way, I generally am probably guilty of
allowing our birds too much room to roam, and consequently they grow a little
slower. I am willing to sacrifice the
extra time and effort to grow an animal if it produces a superior product,
which I am confident these are. The
downside about letting a big, white, clumsy bird out on pasture is that they
make excellent targets for even the most unlikely of predators. This year had been quiet on the predator
front, with only a couple layers getting hit before we moved one of our Great
Pyrenees, Isis, closer to them. (That reminds
me, in the future we will have to write more about our two big dogs and,
hopefully, the progress we are making at training them to protect our chicken
flocks.)
Anyway, with both dogs stationed at distant posts on the
farm, we elected to keep our broiler flock near the house so we could monitor
them closely. A little after midnight last
night I awoke from a dream. In fact, I
believe I politely excused myself from the conversation I was having in the
dream so I could go check the chickens. It
is unusual for me to wake up at all at night; I am a really heavy sleeper. Amber wakes up to every sound especially if
it’s Lena or Griff. [True story: I once
refused to wake up at a hotel when the fire alarm had been sounding for several
minutes, Amber pleading with me to get up.
I vaguely remember it, but apparently I got up, walked out in the
hallway (in only my underwear), walked back over to the window and looked down
at the gathering crowd of panicked people and confidently declared to Amber to
go back to bed as there was no fire.
Turns out it was a group of drunk Marines who decided it would be fun to
pull the fire alarm.] Anyway, last night I laid quietly in bed and heard our
other dog, Steel, going crazy and then the horrified screech of a chicken being
chased. After running into the closed
door of our bedroom and making a considerable amount of commotion, I pulled my
boots on (wrong feet of course) and grabbed my trusty shotgun and a flashlight
and ran like some sort of half-drunk ape, my body still mostly asleep and
refusing to function. Fortunately the chickens
are within 100 yards of our house, and as I slowed to scan with my flashlight I
suddenly caught the shine of eyeballs staring at me.
I have shot many animals protecting our chickens before, but
there is always a moment (for me at least), right when I first catch sight of
the predator, when I realize that without my firearm and flashlight, I am
absolutely powerless, especially if the startled critter happens to be
large. It is then, with my mind racing,
that I always am thankful it is dark out and nobody else is around to witness
how ridiculous I must look with an embarrassing pair of old shorts and my still
asleep legs carrying me as fast as I dare crawling through the brush and
trees. Fortunately for me and my family,
those shining eyeballs didn’t belong to a skunk (always a rather difficult
problem). This time, staring back at me
and hissing a demonic sounding hiss that appeared to come from deep within the
critter’s innards, was an ugly possum.
As he hissed at me and displayed his formidable teeth, my mind began
racing through all the steps of identifying and properly engaging a target that
were so deeply instilled in me thanks to the caring boot heel of my drill
instructor a decade ago on Parris Island.
Everything was fine except that my still sleepy arms couldn’t manage to
coordinate the flashlight and the shotgun at the same time. Fortunately the male possum was more
interested in proving how tough he was and never moved while I got my act
together. One well placed shot later the
threat was eliminated and I could begin surveying the damage. Much to my surprise and amazement, other than
chasing 3 chickens out of the shelter, there were no injured chickens.
“Why,” you may be wondering, “would you tell this story?” I
guess because many folks are always wondering what life is like on a modern,
small, diverse farm like ours, and this is just one of the hundreds of
unplanned “jobs” that need to be done on the farm. Living at your job has its rewards as well as
its occasional drawbacks. This story had
a happy ending (except for the possum), but this is not always the case. The threat from predators is one of the
biggest risks we face when we choose to give our chickens the freedom to roam
and act like chickens. I have seen birds
raised in confinement; they never get attacked by possums, fox, hawks, or marauding
dogs. But if they could choose, I am
certain that most chickens (if not all!) would take the risks associated with
the freedom we provide over the cramped, dusty, dirty sheds of a confinement system. There is no perfect system; they all have
risks. In the quest to eliminate the
threat of predators, and make feeding easier for the farmer, most farms have
chosen to confine tens of thousands of birds instead of raising small flocks on
appropriate pastures. But take heart! As more folks become aware of the risks and
hidden costs of the conventional taxpayer-subsidized food system, more small
farms like ours are striving to keep up with the demand. Even when it means ridiculous men in shorts
battling possums on another sleep-deprived night!
No comments:
Post a Comment