Yes, I hate little chicken pens because they are cruel.
Yes, I said cruel.
How would you like to live in such a tiny space.
If I was a chicken and I was let out everyday to roam that would be one thing but
to live in one of those tiny ones 24-7 is not happy.
So here is a picture of a chicken pen as I remember them back in the day.
You notice the size.
My Nana and Papa Pillsbury, who lived in Sutter Creek CA. had a big pen except their pen was taller and had chicken wire on the top so the red tail hawks couldn't sweep down and get themselves a cheap chicken dinner.
I loved walking barefoot in the pen because the soil felt so soft on my bare feet. It was soft because it was the ashes from my Papa's wood burning stove that was kept on his enclosed back porch. He would sit their and read the newspaper and relax. He needed to relax because he worked so hard for PG and E as an electrician. You know climbing poles, fixing downed lines and getting up at 2 in the morning when the storms took the power out.
Anyway it was one of my favorite things to walk in that pen. Nana decided it could be dangerous to do because I could get a splinter from the unburned wood in my foot so I had to wear shoes in the pen.
I loved her very much and she wasn't a wimpy, bossy kind of Nazi Grandma
so I didn't argue a bit, out loud.
But I still think it was the funnest thing ever to walk barefoot in those ashes.
Chicken poop?
Who thought of chicken poop in those days.
There are lots of really cute chicken coops now days but make a bigger pen OK.
Don't be cruel.
Love, Grammy T.
