The Chicken Man
Don Schmitz & Grandkidsandme

One of the sure signs of spring on the Schmitz Family Farm was the arrival of five hundred baby chicks. Each year, the chicks would arrive  around Easter time. Along with their arrival came a whole new year of chicken experiences.

Since my father liked the cows, he spent most of his working days caring for the cows. My older brother liked the pigs and since I was next in line, my job by default, was to take care for the chickens. It wasn’t my first choice but someone had to do it and in the end I grew to appreciate chickens and I think they appreciated me.

Baby chicks grow to full-size in a very short time and within five months are producing eggs. The eggs provided cash for our family groceries. I was one of seven children and even though we had our own garden and raised our own meat, there were still many groceries we needed to purchase.

I had many wonderful memories while caring for the chickens. One memory I recall was putting glasses on our chickens. Chickens tend to pick at each other so the glasses were put on the chickens for the opposite reason we wear glasses, it was to prevent them from picking and hurting each other with their beaks. 

When the chicks, now pullets, were about three months old we would catch each of the 500 pullets, hold them and install these funny little metal glasses on their beak. The process didn’t hurt them, but that didn't stop them from flapping their wings and putting up a big fuss. The whole family got involved: my two brothers, four sisters and mom and dad. We did the process at night because it was the only time we could catch them while they were sitting on their roost. It was a big job but the fun part was doing it with my mom and dad and all my brothers and sisters.

Another memory I recall was talking to the chickens. Yes, I would talk to the chickens and they would talk back to me. They were great talkers!  They had so much to say.  Sometimes, I think I could even understand what they'd say and somehow I think they knew what I said to them.

As I entered the chicken barn, they would always hear me coming and suddenly stop talking.  I would say, “Good morning or good afternoon chickens” and slowly one at a time, they would start saying hello to me, of course in their own language. First one chicken in one corner would say, “Boooock, buck buck” and than another would start in, “Boooock, buck buck, buck buck” and than another, “Boooock, buck buck, buck buck” and soon they were all talking and telling me all the latest news from the hen house. 

Sometimes I would yell and this would startle them. Then I'd say, “Be quiet chickens!”  They would all get real quiet but it didn't last long and slowly they would start their eternal racket all over again. One brave chicken would start,  “Boooock, buck buck” and than another would start in, “Boooock, buck buck, buck buck” and than another, “Boooock, buck buck, buck buck” and soon the chorus of chickens were happily telling me their favorite stories. 

A baby chicken is called a chick.  A growing chick is called a pullet but what got us most excited about was when they became a hen.  A pullet becomes a hen when they started to lay eggs. Since we needed their eggs to buy our groceries, we were always very excited when this time finally arrived.  Everyone in the family took great pride in finding the first pullet eggs for the season.

Now, my job of caring for the chickens became even more difficult. Not only did I have to feed them their feed, grit, oyster shells and water, but now I had to gather the eggs as well. When the chickens laid their eggs, they would so in special nests we built for them. We would put straw in the nests and the chickens would love to lay their eggs there. 

Sometimes the chickens didn’t like it when I took their eggs and they would let me know by picking at my hand. Most of the time, however, their peck was gentle. I would reach my hand under their chest, find the eggs and carefully put them in the basket.

Each day my job was to report to my mother how many eggs I collected and record it on the calendar. Unfortunately, I was often easily distracted and would tend to loose count. Usually there were around two hundred eggs, so I would often guess some number near that and write it down. It was always so much more fun to talk and sing with the chickens as they sang and talked to me than count their eggs.

Today our chicken barn no longer exists but the memories will be with me forever.

“Buuuuck, buck buck, buck buck!” 

Don Schmitz is a popular speaker and writer on parenting and grandparenting. He is the author of The New Face of Grandparenting…Why Parents Need Their Own Parents and founder of The Grandkidsandme Foundation and Grandparent Camps. Don holds graduate degrees in Education, Administration and Human Development. He is the father to three sons and nine grandchildren. Contact Don@grandkidsandme.com