
Most mornings, we start our days with breakfast with the animals. I bring the food out to the patio while Ellie walks across to the coop and lets the chickens and ducks out. They follow her back to the house and spend the meal under the table or circling around us begging for nibbles. They know Ellie will oblige. If she doesn’t, the hens don’t hesitate to jump up and peck a bite from her hand or try to perch on the arm of her chair.
Cigo is always there and often Cedar comes down from the barn too. It’s a hilarious and idyllic way to begin the day.
After breakfast, we all move on to whatever it is we’re doing for the day, and as long as Ellie and I are home, we leave the birds to free range.

Letting the birds run has been working well.
They stay close to the house and the barn, so we’re not worried about them wandering away. When they need to lay an egg, they go back to the coop. They enjoy dust bathing where the grass doesn’t grow around the garage. They scratch and eat on the lawn and into the meadow.
I think free ranging is healthier for them. The dust baths are definitely good for their feathers. They have a more varied diet. They have more stimulation and space.
If we’re going out or at the end of the day, I call, “Here chick, chick, chick!” and they come running from wherever they are and follow me to the coop. (There’s usually some treats involved, hence their enthusiasm to return.)
But there are more dangers when the chickens are out of the run and a couple of weeks ago we lost our first chicken.

I’m not sure exactly what happened, since I had gone in the house after breakfast and didn’t hear anything. When I came out to mow the grass, I found a suspicious amount of white feathers by the treehouse. The location was also suspicious, as the chickens don’t tend to spend much time near the treehouse. I searched around but found no other signs of a chicken or violence. I rounded up the other chickens for a count and found 9, not our usual 10.
I questioned Cedar (our very active hunter) and searched his usual hideouts in the barn. There was no sign of a chicken or feathers, and I determined he was innocent.
My best guess is a hawk may have come through, spotted the hen on her own in the more open area between the barn and the driveshed, and carried her away.
It’s disappointing, but not inevitable. Caring for animals means facing death sometimes. Ellie and I both feel the benefits of free ranging outweigh the risks, so we’re going to continue. (This has very much been a family decision.) The birds certainly want to be out and seem happier when they’re roaming.
So for breakfast time and beyond, the birds will be out.



























































