How Raising Chickens Turned Me Into a Backyard Farmer (Sort Of)

Ten years ago, if you had told me I’d be outside in my pajamas at 6 a.m., negotiating with a feathery tyrant named Broccoli over whether she laid an egg today, I would have laughed in your face. But here we are.

It all started with a dream: fresh eggs, a cute coop, skipping outside with a beautiful sundress and a basket, and a darling backyard flock. I pictured myself sipping coffee while my chickadees roamed the yard, basking in the glow of my newfound homesteader lifestyle. I would be a backyard farmer with overflowing baskets of eggs and bouquets of homegrown flowers.

The Great Chicken Coup (All Puns Intended)

I did what any reasonable person would do: I spent weeks on Pinterest, watched 57 YouTube videos, and convinced my husband that this was a great idea.

We built a coop that was way more expensive than I’d anticipated. We picked out adorable fluffy chicks that would lay pretty-colored eggs, brought them home, and named them things like “Coffee” and “Watermelon.” The kids were so excited, and I felt like a domestic queen.

The Reality of Chicken Ownership

Here’s what no one tells you when you decide to raise chickens:

1. They Are Divas. I thought chickens would peck around quietly and lay eggs. Instead, if one of them finds a worm, she announces it like she’s just won the lottery. And don’t get me started on the song they sing after they’ve laid an egg.
2. Egg Production Can Be Unpredictable. I was under the premise that my ladies would be supplying me with “farm fresh eggs” every day. Instead, my hens took extended maternity leave, went on seasonal strikes, and sometimes decided, “Not today, lady,” for kicks and giggles.
3. They Will Escape. No matter how secure you think you have your coop, chickens will find a way out, even when you’re standing right there. I have played ring around the rosy to get them back in the coop more times than I’d like to admit.

But Then There Were Eggs

One afternoon, after weeks of months of feeding, cleaning, and questioning my life choices, I opened the nesting box and saw it. The most perfect egg you ever did see. I held it up like Rafiki presenting Simba to the world. It was a moment of victory.

But honestly, when you eat an egg from your backyard or a chicken that has insulted you on multiple occasions, it tastes better. Maybe because it’s as fresh as you can get. Maybe it’s all the work and money you put in. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t going to let all that effort go to waste.

Final Verdict: Am I A Farmer?

Would I call myself a backyard farmer? Absolutely. I have livestock, gather eggs, and chase rogue chickens through my yard. It’s not exactly the Pinterest homestead I envisioned, but it’s mine. We even have quail now; more about that here.

So, if you’re thinking about raising chickens, go for it. Just be prepared for early mornings, some escape attempts, and the occasional side-eye from a sassy hen named Blossom.

With the cost of eggs, would you consider raising chickens?