Chicken Time

Daylight Savings Time doesn't matter much to me these days. I know so many people hate it when we fall back and darkness falls earlier, or spring forward and lose an hour of sleep, but Rhodes and I are both retired, and most of our days don't run by the standards of time as most people see it. I've talked about this enough times that most people who know me probably get the basics: we sleep, eat, work, and play on our own schedules. 

There is, however, one major exception to that: my father-in-law lives with us, and we have dinner together every night. He prefers to have dinner between 6 and 7:00 p.m., so dinner prep and dinner time revolve around that schedule. We don't always make it, but we try. 

At certain times of the year the conflict with that schedule doesn't come from any human source, but from the 11 feathered bodies in the backyard. 

I have kept chickens for about a year and a half now, and one thing that hasn't changed in that time is my concern for losing birds to predators. Our chickens are part of our Cottage family, and I hate the thought of them dying in some terrible, frightening manner, so their "free-range" time is more of a "supervised-range" time. Through trial and error, I have figured out that they are happiest when they range right before they go in for the night. 

Every evening, 60 to 90 minutes or so before sunset, Rhodes or I go sit in the yard with the chickens while they roam around eating green plants, hunting bugs, and playing chicken games. I use that time to read, talk with friends, do barn chores, meditate, write, or just be in the swing, watching as the light changes and darkness moves in.  

With daylight savings time having rolled in, this means that I am out the door no later than 4:30 for chicken time, and when it comes to chickens it isn't a human time construct issue but an actual sunset issue. The chickens have their own circadian rhythm that sends them looking for their shelter a little before the sun sets, and our automatic coop door works on the basis of available light and has been closing at around 5:40 p.m. 

For some reason going outside "earlier" makes it seem easier to have dinner prepared on the nights it is my turn to cook, and with the cooler weather, I sometimes use chicken time for looking up make-ahead casseroles that Rhodes can just pop into the oven while I am out with the birds. 

Dinner conflicts, cooking, adjusting schedules, and all else aside, no matter what time of year it is, that time outside every evening is always a best part of my days. There isn't any rushing it; even with the automatic door, I still have to make sure that they have all gone into the coop. Sometimes cloudy days or rain can mess with the birds' sense of timing. Recently I came home from running errands and went to check on them within half an hour of the sun having set. It was a rainy day, and I found most of the chickens huddled and miserable on the steps by the closed door. They were sitting ducks for any predator that might have wandered by. 

Sometimes they are all in 10 or 15 minutes before the door closes; other times the last one squeaks in just before I hear the beeping alarm and the metal door slides down. Both of the Smokey Pearl chickens, French Broad and Miss Frizz, are unimpressed by stories of the monsters that wait for them in the dark and frequently push their luck by going in at the last possible second. 

Bottom line, chicken time is my outdoors, fresh air, slow down and breathe point in almost every day, and I am grateful to have it. 

I have also learned that having a light on inside the coop when dusk starts to fall encourages my chickens to move into the coop and helps them get settled. I often feel that way about going inside, too. 

The light in the window draws me every time, and most nights when I come in and step into the hallway and see the light coming from the kitchen and smell homecooked food my spirits are lifted even more.