The chickens go in by themselves, each to their own respective coops, (we have 3) but it's my job to close up their doors, to keep the predators at bay.
On one side of our property, there's a strip of forest. The wind blowing through the trees creates what's music to my ears... a choreography of clicking, cracking trees, rustling leaves, often complimented by the sound of a train in the distance traveling up the West side of the Hudson River where the sun has set.
We have over 30 chickens, 1/2 are geriatric and no longer very productive with their egg laying, and more than half of whom just started laying eggs over the last month or two...
No matter how much I resist going out sometimes, as I walk back from the coops and see the goats content as they munch away at their hay.... I love our farm and how it never fails to reconnect me to what's important in life.
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