The dreaded day comes. Your mother walks into the kitchen after one to many Pinterest binges and declares that she will be going to Tractor Supply in the morning to by some dibbies. “Dibbies?” you think, “Like little dibbie cakes?” Oh contraire you ignorant girl, little do you know that these “dibbes” your mother are referring to are not delectable, cream-filled, chocolate smothered cakes. No, they are baby chicks, also known as the gate-way drug to the newfound trend of Micro-Farming. Don’t blink, because before you know it your tiny backyard will be taken hostage by DIY chicken coops and tomatoes growing in tires. Yes, tires. If you have suddenly found yourself victim of this miniature agricultural phenomena, here’s what you should expect:
The chickens come first. ALWAYS.
You think I’m kidding. These winged hellions are no longer your nuggets, they are your mother’s beloved children. She will name them AND be able to identify them accordingly. She will talk to them, discipline them, and talk non-stop about them: “Elizabeth is so sassy, today when I was changing the feed she was bullying the other hens. I told her not to get an attitude with me.” Your mother will plaster these tiny beaked devils all over her Facebook, cooing over how they “grow up so fast.” Be forewarned, you are now second.
Eggs are Breakfast. Eggs are Lunch. Eggs are Dinner. Eggs are life.
Once these feathered monsters start laying eggs, your home will become overwhelmed by the egg-pocolyspe. With 8 hens laying eggs, full cartons will slowly intrude your kitchen, lining the counters first, until they become stacks, and eventually fill the refrigerator. To combat the amount of eggs pouring into your humble kitchen, your mother will insist that they must not be wasted. How dare we waste the beloved gift that her sweet babies bestowed upon us? You’ll soon discover all of the many ways one can cook an egg. You’ll eat it all: scrambled eggs, fried eggs, egg salad, egg sandwiches, poached eggs and the list continues. Eat up!
Poop will no longer a topic avoided at the dinner table.
Say it with me now, COMPOST. Your mother will obsess over it. She will carry tiny little Ziploc bags of egg shells and nuts left over from her lunch in her purse, so that she can add it to her beloved compost heap when she gets home. In all of its wreaking glory. You will peak out of your bedroom window to see her scrounging the droppings from her many farm creatures, thanking them for their contributions. “Compost is Gold, do you know how much you have to pay for that crap at Lowes?” –Quote directly from my mother.
Pinterest will never be the same.
The days of your mother’s sending you dream wedding dresses or cool recipes to try on Pinterest are behind you. Not only has this new lifestyle taken over your home, but your mother’s boards as well. Her “Getting Crafty” and “Desserts to Make” boards have been replaced with “Canning and Preservation” and “My Future Goat.” You’ll go to scroll through your home page, hoping to see a potential tattoo idea or a killer recipe for a Fajita Chicken Salad, and be bombarded with pins for “Natural Garden Pest Control” or “How to Knit Chicken Sweaters.” Post Micro-Farming nothing is sacred, not even your unhealthy Pinterest addiction.
Micro-Farming brings the family together.
All jokes aside, Micro-Farming was one of the best changes for my home. Not only did my mother’s newfound love bring healthier options to our dinner table, but it was awesome to see my mom find something that she could be so passionate about. Her newfound one-ness with nature has been incredible to watch, and she teaches us new things everyday about our own backyard. It’s also instilled a sense of responsibility and you grow to care for all of the animals.
Yes, even the God forsaken chickens.
