With a new foal romping around and chicks to pickup at the post office, the green hue of grass has convinced the farm that spring is on its way. The pigs have also been enjoying the onset of spring, as well as the mud that comes with it. This week was a busy week for me. I have big red note on my calendar that says “1ST BATCH OF CHICKS TO THE FIELD.” I also have a short list going titled “to get ready for chicks to the field…” On paper the list includes bringing in the field coops, repairing a few things from last season, performing some routine maintenance, and we’re ready to go. Spring fever, it seems, also affects my ability to accurately estimate how long a task will take.
Monday I planned to bring the first batch of chickens out to the field. The weather looked sunny and dry (chickens hate wet feet), and the next batch of chicks was due to arrive on Wednesday, so that would give me time to prepare for them. Monday came and went and I was still repairing the coops. Tuesday became the new goal. Tuesday morning we woke up to 27 degrees, and all the waterlines in our pastures were frozen. By lunch time the waterlines were still frozen, and I shifted gears to preparing for the next batch of chicks. Wednesday was the new goal.
Wednesdays are one of my days to meet the kids at the bus when they come home from school at 2:30. Perhaps they could help move the chicks? Arranging a farm task that is both urgent and planned to do with the kids can be a recipe for disaster. So I asked Holly to come by in the afternoon to see if we needed help. I also sowed the seeds of anticipation with the kids with some exciting stories of moving chickens.
Lewis and Lovett got off the bus with our friends and neighbors Cedar, Caleb and Treva. When I invited everyone to come help move the chicks the whole gang followed. Treva and Lovett helped me with some boards to gently move the chicks into a smaller area in the brooder to make them easier to catch. Alyx (Cedar, Caleb and Treva’s mom) helped me load the 3-week-old chicks into their transport crates, while Lovett and Treva brought us empty ones. Lewis, Cedar and Caleb were not to be out done so they started carrying the full crates of chicks to the trailer to take them to the field. The sense of purpose was beginning to take hold.
Holly waved goodbye to our now confident chick moving team and with the trailer loaded with 480 chicks in less than an hour I felt inspired and excited by our team with an average age of 6 years old. I backed the trailer up to the first coop and showed the team how to carry the crates gently into the coop and unload the chicks. After the first 4 crates they were off. With 16 birds in each crate they were not too heavy for a team to carry. Once inside the field coop, the crates have a handy flip door that lets the chicks easily slide out. We stack the empty coops outside the coop and bring in the next.
With the team unloading the chicks, I setup the feeders and waterers and checked each coop for any hidden gaps that might let a rambunctious chick out into the open. Next we were joined by Layton, our youngest chicken helper at just over two. Once the chicks were all exploring their new home, we filled each of the feeders with feed from 50 lb bags. These were impossibly heavy for any one on the team to carry (and weighed more than most of them), but we read the handy instructions on the bag (“pull narrow tape to open”) and discovered that if each team member used a handy yogurt cup scooper, we could all help fill the feeders. By the time we had emptied the third bag, Cedar and Lewis figured out they could scoop out enough feed into another empty bag so they could carry more at one time. Layton mostly preferred to use his hands.☺︎
With the chicks situated in their new home, we loaded the empty crates back on the trailer and brought them down to the barn to set out for the rain to wash. I parked the trailer and sent the team on one last task to put the feed bags in the dumpster. I watched the crew running down the farm road, with banners of waving feed bags billowing behind them and I noticed I was laughing softly at the beautiful moment. Their fun was visible, and so was the satisfaction of work. I knew there was a risk of creating drudgery, and yet they found enjoyment.
I quickly ducked into the office and grabbed some one dollar bills. When the team came back from their dumpster run, I thanked each one as I handed them their well earned bill. Without exception, each of them received their earnings with awe and excitement.
I felt a wave of emotions, pride for the teamwork I had witnessed, satisfaction at the parenting orchestration I had pulled off, shame at the abysmal wages, and joy for the look of new-found financial freedom they each had as they stuffed the bill into a pocket and ran for the house to the next game. Where would those dollars end up?
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