New York Times, Denmark, classical music, and cows.

Carsten Snejbjerg for The New York Times

10. And finally, a moo-ving performance.

This weekend, a group of cellists played two concerts for some music-loving cows and humans in a village south of Copenhagen as part of an effort to bring cultural events to rural areas.

The idea was born when the founder of Denmark’s Scandinavian Cello School, who had toured Japan as a musician, told a local farmer about how that country’s famously pampered Wagyu cows were raised to produce tender beef. All attendees, human and bovine, appeared to enjoy the events, though the cows seemed to have stronger opinions about classical music.

“Did you see how they all left at one point,” one cellist said. “They’re not really Dvorak fans.”

Have a cultured evening.

I never met a cow I didn't like.

What someone else wrote: A very good explanation about how evolution works.

Will cows evolve to be intelligent like humans?

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Whales are close relatives of cows and hippos. Yet toothed whales (i.e. dolphins) are smarter than chimps, our closest living relatives. The dolphins are the next smartest living things on earth besides humans. In fact, before humans evolved, dolphins were the smartest animals that ever lived. Therefore it is certainly possible that the descendants of cows can evolve to be very smart, perhaps not as smart as humans but very smart nevertheless.

If it is possible, then is it probable that cows can give rise to descendants that are very smart. The answer is may be. The reason humans evolved to be so smart is because without our brains, we probably would have become extinct. That is because our ape ancestors were forced to live on the African savanna by stronger apes, when African forests started to shrink due to climate change. To survive on the savanna, where there are lots of dangerous predators but little food, our ancestors needed to evolve traits such as walking on 2 legs, and they have to evolve almond shaped eyes so they can have better peripheral vision than apes. They also needed big brains to figure out where to find food. With our big brains, we have found food that apes do not eat. For example, humans have learned to dig clams during low tide. We learned to dig tubers such as yam and potato out from below the ground. We even eventually learned to grow our own crops. The big brain comes at a cost, however, because it requires a lot of energy to maintain. Our brain weighs less than 3 pounds and yet it consumes 20% of our daily energy. As a result humans have to eat a lot and an energy rich diet just to stay alive. Cows feed mainly on grasses, which have very little calories. in fact it is because we cannot digest grasses which forced us to evolve a big brain to find food. In contrast cows evolved a 4 chambered stomach to eat digest grasses so they did not need a big brain to survive. Different solutions for the same problem by different organisms. That is common in evolution.

In evolution, good enough is good enough. The relatively low intelligence of cows is good enough for them. If they need a big brain to survive, they either evolve one or they become extinct. So, unless there is a real good reason for them to evolve a big brain, chances are that they won't, because it does not do them any good to have a brain that is more costly to maintain but that does not help them survive better. It will force them to eat a lot more in order to maintain a useless organ that consumes a lot of energy. To give you a sociological example, it is like putting a bus sized engine in a small car so that it will consume a lot of gasoline even though it won't get you from point a to point b any faster nor can it transport the same number of passengers as a bus. That is why humans do not put bus sized engines in small cars. It is just wasteful without doing us any good.

I get this free farm town newspaper at a Save-a-Lot grocery store in northwestern Illinois. The Prairie News - JEANNE HARLAND - Dealing with seven tons of bulls

There are currently about seven tons of bulls within a mile stretch of road here in northeast Knox County. That’s nine bulls, and five of them are ours. The rest belong to Horsleys, who are actual cattle breeders. They now own a pasture up the road which they have renovated and fenced. Part of the ground is in hay. AJ says it looks just like it did when he was a kid, which is to say it looks beautiful. Their bulls are the finishing touch.

Bulls only work a few months out of the year. They would like to work year-round, but that is not practical. During the off season they still need someplace to live. This would be a lot easier to accommodate if it weren’t for all that testosterone. The same thing that makes them good at their job also makes them unwilling to share a pasture peacefully.

From what I’ve seen so far, the Horsley bulls are dignified and professional and just go about their business of grazing peacefully and looking scenic. Our bulls, on the other hand, act like a bunch of undisciplined adolescents. This doesn’t make it easy for them to room together in the little house pasture.

AJ and Matt strategized carefully how to place five bulls into one pasture without complete chaos ensuing. They had all been on assignment with different segments of our herd. Kyle was on the 40 with the heifers. WIU49 was at the Other Place with the older cows. 31 was here at home with the younger cows. Potts was in the relief pen and 7, the newest, youngest, and smallest, was on the disabled list with a slight limp. The goal was to introduce them all into the pasture in as short a period of time as possible to minimize any one of them establishing it as his own personal territory.

As one would imagine, there is a definite hierarchy among bulls, but it doesn’t correlate entirely with size or even age, though the latter is more of a factor than the former. We know the dynamics within this group of five bulls, so the first decision about how to best assure harmony around the hay ring was to put only four of them together in the pasture.

While this was somewhat inconvenient in the short term, it seemed a better option than potentially having to round up a cluster of badly behaved black bulls in the middle of some moonless night. 31 had earned a place in the cull lot anyway, by dint of being a troublemaker.

AJ and Matt were able to execute their plans with remarkable precision. By mid-morning four bulls were growling, pawing, bellaring, and posturing in the little house pasture. When AJ came in for a drink, I commented on the racket going on, “but at least they haven’t put one another through the fence.”

“Don’t say that!” he warned. I left to care for a neighbor’s kittens. I was gone for about forty minutes. When I turned to come up the lane on my return, I was alarmed to see the little Kubota nosed up against the bank along the little house pasture.

I feared AJ had had a mishap, but I did not see him, so I drove on by. A few yards beyond the Kubota the six strands of the barbed wire fence were a tangled mess, the springs hanging listlessly. Uh-oh.

Quickly I counted four bulls. Whew. I proceeded to the barnyard where AJ was repairing a feedbunk. I didn’t need to ask what had happened, but I did. It was my fault, of course, for giving life to the words earlier. “Potts pushed Kyle through the fence.”

AJ had been working on that bunk when he looked up and saw Kyle standing in the lane and Potts pawing the ground triumphantly. AJ jumped on the little Kubota and was able to drive around Kyle and partially block the lane. Then he walked Kyle up the ditch to the gate, opened it, and Kyle gamely went back in, where he immediately began pawing the ground at Potts. He knew he had to stand up to the bully, older by a year but pretty evenly matched in size.

For the next few days, there was an occasional shoving match, random head butts, and an excessive amount of noise, from basso profundo rumblings to whinnying screams, but the pasturemates managed to coexist peacefully enough. When the wind was just right I could hear a couple faint replies from the Horsley bulls up the road.

Now the bulls seem to have sifted themselves out into a reasonable living arrangement. 49, the big boy of the group by far, mostly does whatever he wants. He is old enough and docile enough that he has nothing to prove. If two of the other bulls were foolish enough and organized enough to gang up on him he would quickly demonstrate his superior power and the challenge would soon be settled.

Kyle and Potts offer grudging respect to one another. Kyle is a lover, not a fighter, so he will go hang out at some distance from the others if tension rises. The hot weather has done much to facilitate a spirit of brotherhood within this band of four. There is always some shade in the little house pasture, but there is never very much. The price of admission to a cool nap is tolerating the proximity of one’s rivals.

Little 7 knows he is low bull on this totem pole and seems to just go along with the crowd. None of the others pay him much heed except at the feed bunk each morning when they work together to edge him down to the end where he will finally duck out and amble on down to the opposite end to start over.

Meanwhile in the cull lot, 31 is continuing to reinforce AJ’s decision to send him to market by upsetting at least one of the big wooden feed bunks every day. Every. Single. Day.

Next week we will wean the calves, so there will be a whole new set of things to worry about. For right now, however, we are settled into a routine, however tenuous it may be. Because the hydrant at the bulls’ water tank leaks, I shut it off every night when I feed the goldfish that live in it. Big old 49 was approaching the tank for a cool drink one morning when I turned it back on. Just as he thrust his massive head into the tank to take his first sip, the float suddenly spurted noisily to life. Startled, 49 jumped straight up into the air and back about three feet all at once.

And that is no bull.

Beefy Sweet & Sloppy Joes

This is a kid-friendly recipe with a great name. Sweet bell peppers give it the sweet, and, the sloppy, well, that’s the whole sandwich. This BeefIt’sWhat’sFor Dinner.com recipe is certified by the American Heart Association®.

Ingredients: 1 pound Ground Beef (96% lean)
1 cup chopped yellow, green or red bell pepper 3/4 cup finely chopped onion
1 can or bottle (12 ounces) 100% vegetable juice
2 tablespoon lightly-packed brown sugar
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
4 whole wheat hamburger buns, split Cooking:

1. Heat large non-stick skillet over medium heat until hot. Add ground beef, bell pepper and onion; cook 8 to 10 minutes, breaking beef up into 3/4-inch crumbles and stirring occasionally.

2. Stir in vegetable juice, brown sugar and Worcestershire sauce; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer, uncovered, 7 to 9 minutes or until most of the liquid has evaporated and thickens slightly, stirring occasionally.

3. Evenly place beef mixture on bottom half of each bun; close sandwiches.

JEANNE HARLAND is a cow-calf producer in Knox County where she and her husband, AJ, also raise corn, soybeans, oats and turnips.

Everything you always wanted to know about cows.

This blog has 8 posts about cows at cows.

6,000 cows drown in the ocean. This is not a good thing.

NPR

ASIA

42 Crew, Nearly 6,000 Cows Missing After Ship Sinks In Storm-Tossed Seas Off Japan

September 3, 2020

A ship carrying more than 40 crew members and some 6,000 head of cattle has disappeared off the coast of Japan after capsizing in typhoon-lashed seas, according to a crew member who so far is the only known survivor.

The Gulf Livestock 1, en route from New Zealand to China, issued a distress call early Wednesday from a position west of Japan's Amami Oshima island.

The mayday call, to which the Japanese coast guard responded, was sent as Typhoon Maysak was tracking through the region as a powerful Category 4 storm.

Some more northwestern Illinois farmer news

The Prairie News

Cattle keep family busy

Children, actively involved in Leezer family farm.

By Ben Steinbach

TOULON – On a beautiful Sunday in May, the rolling rural countryside south of Toulon lacked the typical tranquility you would expect in such a serene setting. As summer approaches and the polychromatic patchwork of wildflowers and prairie grasses bursts to life, a cow barn was the last place I expected to find the birds and the bees.

I arrived at the home of Tyler and Leah Leezer to find A.I. technician Jay Iliff and Emily Smith of the Stark County Farm Bureau on scene and realized things were about to get interesting. They were expecting Kyle Cantwell, who owns a neighboring farm, to deliver the necessary ingredients to breed six heifers. The very new experience that unfolded before me was just another day in the life of the Leezers.

Over the last seven years Tyler and Leah have quickly built quite the herd on their family farm. Along with raising their two children, Brady and Brenna, the couple has amassed 25 cows, starting with none.

When I asked Tyler what got him into raising cattle, he explained that local farmers John Michael Castagna and Chris McMillan had piqued his interested in agriculture when he was in high school. A few years after moving to their farm, they decided to start off raising a single bucket calf. The next year they got another, and things quickly escalated from there. “When Tyler said he wanted to raise cattle, I didn’t know what to think,” Leah explained. “I had never really been around all this before.”

Tyler described Leah’s change of heart by saying, “I told her to feed a calf you just stick your finger in its mouth until you can get the bottle in there. She thought I was joking with her. Now she’s the first one to get the stubborn calves to eat.”

Explaining Brady and Brenna’s part of the operation, Leah said, “The kids have really stepped up and taken on a lot of chores. They’re pretty much in charge of the bucket calves, now!”

Tyler added, “A lot of our cattle are for show. We’ve kind of slacked off this year not knowing if there will be a 4-H fair with all the state restrictions. I can tell you we’ve done a lot of fishing.”

To keep all those mouths fed, the family also farms 15 acres of corn, and plans to add hay to their list next year. “The hardest part of all of this is working 50 hours a week and coming home to work every night,” said Tyler, who works at the Leezer Agency in Toulon. “If I didn’t have a full time job this would be easy (laughs).”

In all seriousness, Tyler continued, “We wouldn’t be where we are now without the help of John Michael Castagna, Nate Cox, Randy Rumbold, Jim Kinsella, Kyle Cantwell, Jay Iliff, and the Horsley’s, just to name a few.”

Here in northwestern Illinois we have a free newspaper called "Prairie News". This article was written by my favorite farmer: "JEANNE HARLAND is a cow-calf producer in Knox County where she and her husband, AJ, also raise corn, soybeans, oats and turnips."

The Prairie News

https://illinoisweeklies.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/prainew-2020-06-05-all.pdf

A close to calving season: Plenty of shenanigans

Somebody had to be last. This year it was 5505. She had a brawny bull calf in the east barn yesterday. AJ and I sat on a bale of hay and watched it learn how to work long legs that until a few minutes earlier had been folded up inside Mom. It must have felt good to stretch them out.

His birth brought to a close a calving season remarkable for being unremarkable. Oh, there were plenty of shenanigans. There always are when cows and calves are involved. But aside from one calf who came backwards and therefore needed a bit of help from Matt and AJ, all the cows delivered calves successfully on their own, including two sets of twins.

Our first calf was born on March 3rd. A month later we had seventy calves on the ground. Three weeks later there were just three cows left to calve. But it wasn’t all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. One evening we discovered a calf lying alone in the stalks. He was quite weak, so we brought him to the barn and gave him medicine and electrolytes. He perked up for a while, but it soon became evident that despite our best efforts, he likely was not going to make it. We spent much of the night with the little black calf, his head on my lap as I sat in the straw with him…not because we thought it would help, but because we knew that it couldn’t.

Our job is to take care of these animals, and we do it to the very best of our ability. Sometimes that is not enough. It is always heartbreaking to lose one.

An important part of what we do to care for our calves and cows is to give them regular vaccinations. We did that last week. It is a two-day job, one at the Other Place and one here at home. Dr. Iliff has been our veterinarian for many years and knows our cows by name, at least the ones that have names. His son Jay was assisting him, so the process was going pretty smoothly. Matt and his cousin Kyle were in the barn pushing the calves one by one into the chute outside. I keep a record of the proceedings and AJ is the utility person, sorting, tagging, or supervising as needed. We are a good team.

We worked the two sets of twins from the little house pasture first. We had, against all our better judgments, run them out of the pasture and down the lane to the lot the day before. In spite of our collective misgivings, that transfer went without a hitch. You may recall the circus that came to town the day we walked 202 and her two calves from the barn to the pasture. Her little red and white calf had bolted back to the barn not once, not twice, but three times.

It didn’t take long for little red and white to get her shots. She was a trooper and didn’t even bleat. Jay opened the headgate and she bounded out of the chute, head up, ready for an adventure, as always. Instead of going straight ahead and through the gate into the lot, however, she made a quick U turn, darted by me, and dashed out the walk-through gate next to the barn. AJ, Jay, and I gave chase, but she was too speedy for us.

Matt came out of the barn and we saw that she was simply headed back to the little house pasture. Matt went to open the gate, but red and white had no time for that nonsense. Instead, she trotted up the fence to where the water tank is and before I could get that gate open, she plowed through the wires of the fence to get back home.

Shaking our heads and chuckling, Matt and I hurried back to the working area and continued our jobs. Dr. Iliff had just finished the second set of twins when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. “Matt, look,” I said, pointing. He laughed. Here came red and white, trotting back out to see where mom and sis were. For a moment I thought Matt was going to chase her, catch her, and carry her back to where she belonged like he had two months ago, but she is far less portable now. We opted to let her range freely around the barnyard for a while.

Midway through the main group of calves I heard a series of loud thumps and then “Whoa!!!” from inside the stalls. The “Whoa!” was Kyle. The thumping had been calves jumping through the manger after they had moved the gate set to … prevent them from jumping through the manger.

Now Matt was yelling, “Shut the door!” But the rogues were already bouncing over the threshold out of the barn by the time the sound reached my ears. Both goodnatured, Matt and Kyle were more amused than upset at the calves’ wiliness.

Eventually all the calves got their vaccinations. Matt and AJ hauled the twins and moms the two hundred yards back to the little house pasture. This seemed like the sensible thing to do, since we had struggled with walking just one set of twins. We’d still be out there with two.

With calving season over and all the crops in, we can go to work on fences, and of course, making hay. Both are never-ending. We never have to wonder what to do. Oh, and we have already turned the bull in with the keeper heifers, so we’re just nine months away from doing it all over again.

JEANNE HARLAND is a cow-calf producer in Knox County where she and her husband, AJ, also raise corn, soybeans, oats and turnips.

This is mostly about pigs and cows. I prefer chickens. Very interesting stuff in this video. It's a tough job and these days it could kill you.

Everything you always wanted to know about horses, cows, and deers.

An atheist was seated next to a little girl on an airplane and he turned to her and said, “Do you want to talk? Flights go quicker if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger.” The little girl, who had just started to read her book, replied to the total stranger, “What would you want to talk about?” “Oh, I don’t know,” said the atheist. “How about why there is no God, or no Heaven or Hell, or no life after death?” as he smiled smugly. “Okay,” she said. “Those could be interesting topics but let me ask you a question first. A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff – grass. Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, but a horse produces clumps. Why do you suppose that is?” The atheist, visibly surprised by the little girl’s intelligence, thinks about it and says, “Hmmm, I have no idea.” To which the little girl replies, “Do you really feel qualified to discuss God, Heaven and Hell, or life after death, when you don’t know shit?”

I get this newspaper for free at the grocery store. Northwestern Illinois - The Prairie News - Jeanne Harland - Calving season preparations underway

Calving season preparations underway

We sorted the first batch of heifers off this morning. Calving season is about to begin. They aren’t due to start for a week, but cows don’t adhere to gestation tables any better than humans do. Since we run a commercial herd and all our critters are crossbred, there is even more variation in due dates. It just makes life all that much more interesting for a couple months.

These are our first-calf heifers, so they are at a somewhat higher risk of complications than the older, more experienced cows. We arrange it so they begin calving a couple weeks before the rest of the herd. Because cows cycle every twenty-one days, most of the heifers should have calves before we get too busy with the older cows.

The silage will be gone in the next few days, and then AJ and Matt will haul all the cows home from the Other Place to calve here. In the olden days we let all the cows calve out in the field, both here at home and at the Other Place. While there are a few advantages to doing that, it is far more practical to keep the cows near the barns and, as much as possible, move them inside to have their calves.

Cattle are an independent species, despite having been domesticated for thousands of years, so they would prefer to be left alone to choose their own secluded spot to give birth. The vast majority of the time that works out fine, but when human intervention is required, usually at two in the morning, often in a snowstorm or torrential downpour, it is preferable to be ministering to a laboring cow in the relative comfort of a barn stall.

Most of what we do is just check on them every few hours. Once one begins the actual labor and birth we monitor them closely. Matt has a good eye for who needs to come in, and eventually we will have created three or perhaps four cohorts, grouped according to how close to calving we believe they are. It is far from foolproof, but it sure beats wandering through the timber in the middle of the night looking for an Angus cow who doesn’t want to be found.

Today’s sort was easy; Matt had noticed significant changes in two heifers, and more subtle signs in two more. 1813 and 1831 are annoyingly tame. They follow AJ and Matt with their heads in the buckets of corn and unfailingly stand in the way when they unwrap the bales of hay or cornstalks. They are impossible to drive because they are so tame. Matt sort of walked 1813 into the holding pen, then we sorted most of the unwanted heifers on out into the hay lot. We put 1832 into the holding pen and got the rest of the unwanted ones out.

We ran the four heifers across to the barn lot and into the east side of the east barn. They have a stalk bale and a bale of hay outside, a nice cement patio with easy access to water, and the freshly bedded east bay of the barn. It doesn’t get much better than that for a cow. Matt’s pick for the first calf of 2020 is 1831. She was uncharacteristically skittish while we were sorting them this morning, and she is still restless this evening, so she may be up to something.

Heifers don’t always know exactly what is going on when they have that first calf. They may walk around for a long time kicking at their belly because something doesn’t feel right. I’ve seen them lie down, have their calf, and get up thinking, “Wow, I feel a lot better now.” Then they are startled when they turn around and see the calf tossing its head and trying to get up. “What the heck? Where did that come from?”

I’ve also seen them have the calf, then immediately turn and bellar loudly right in its face. This does nothing to help the calf get dried off and on its feet, but it does get the calf’s attention. And sometimes a heifer will just ignore her calf. This can happen especially if we have to assist with the delivery. Usually, with some encouragement, they do accept the baby, but it can be frustrating for everyone for a few days.

Of course, once in a great while we will pen up a few pending heifers together in a barn only to have two of them calve almost simultaneously. They invariably lie down butt-to-butt so the calves come out inches from one another. That creates a whole new level of confusion for the heifers, the calves, and us. The calves just want to get up and go have lunch. The heifers may or may not be aware that they now have a baby, and we need to make sure each calf has a mom to look after it. Often in a case like this, both heifers claim one calf and the other is left out, so we have to help them sort things out. And let’s not even talk about a heifer having twins. So we watch and sort and check and help them when needed. It is exhausting. It is often frustrating, sometimes heartbreaking, but always rewarding. I’m looking forward to a pasture full of calves, frolicking in lush green grass. In the meantime, it’s calving season.

Where are the chickens?

Map showing domestication of animals in years before present:

UPDATE: Chickens are very important to me because I eat chicken thighs every day. So I looked it up and I found this stuff:

"Chickens initially became domesticated between 8,000 and 10,000 years ago. There's also genetic evidence to suggest that there were simultaneous but independent domestication events in different parts of Asia and India."

A Brief History of Chickens

Posted by TF Oren

Once relegated mostly to farms and breeding facilities, chickens are now commonplace as pets.

Sure, they're not the most glamorous birds, but they have quite an interesting story, and that story begins in the dinosaur age. Curious? Here's a primer on chicken evolution and domestication.

The chicken's origins lie in a group of dinosaurs called the theropods, which evolved into two categories some 230 million years ago: the Ceratosauria and the Tetanurae. The Ceratosauria then split again into the ceratosaurids and the coelophysoids. The latter eventually resulted in the genetic line that produced the Tyrannosaurus rex.

In 2003, paleontologist Jack Horner discovered a 68-million-year-old T. rex fossil in Montana. Inside its thigh bone, scientists found a blood vessel they were able to analyze. Their phylogenetic analysis revealed that genetically speaking, the domestic chicken is the closest living relative of T. rex.

Now, let's fast-forward a bit to examine the chicken's more recent evolutionary history.

The modern chicken, as we know it, is descended from several of four known species of wild jungle fowl (Gallus) that inhabited parts of Southeast Asia about 50 million years ago.

Scientists believe the red jungle fowl, Gallus gallus, is the most likely progenitor of the modern chicken, although research suggests that the domestic chicken's yellow skin is a trait inherited from the gray jungle fowl, Gallus sonneratii.

So, it's more than likely that today's chicken has multiple ancestors.

Chickens initially became domesticated between 8,000 and 10,000 years ago. There's also genetic evidence to suggest that there were simultaneous but independent domestication events in different parts of Asia and India.

According to computational biologist Michael Zody, it's difficult to pinpoint the domestic chicken's origins and domestication history because the long history of interbreeding between wild and domesticated birds has resulted in inconclusive DNA evidence.

Once chickens were domesticated, they were used for food, fighting, and religious purposes. Various cultures spread them around the world over the course of thousands of years via migration, trade, and territorial conquests.

The Polynesians brought chickens to the Pacific coast of South America around 1200 A.D. Over a period of several hundred years, and mostly due to the popularity of cockfighting, inhabitants of the New World became well versed in chicken care and breeding. Spanish explorers brought chickens to North America, and chickens soon became widely dispersed across the continent.

The chicken reached Europe (Romania, Turkey, Greece, Ukraine) about 3000 BC. Introduction into Western Europe came far later, about the 1st millennium BC. Phoenicians spread chickens along the Mediterranean coasts as far as Iberia.

From dinosaurs to backyard pets, chickens have been around, in some form or another, for millions of years.

Interested in learning more about our fine, feathered friends? Check out these articles on the evolutionary history of chickens and their domestication and cultural importance.

Can you believe domesticated chickens are the ancestor of the T. rex? No wonder when my broody hen starts to growl at me, I immediately think of a dinosaur! You don't need a DNA analysis over here to know these are little dinosaurs running around our yard.

The history behind one of the most popular backyard livestock animals is fascinating! The importance of egg-laying hens and chicken eggs (generally speaking) to society has been in existence since the beginning...of everything!

My chickens enjoy a free-range lifestyle and I cannot imagine keeping them in their secure coop area all day. If they were once wild species then it makes sense they that would enjoy room to scratch and peck above and beyond even eating! Egg production in our flock actually increased after we start letting them free-range all day.

So enjoy those hens that lay eggs for you each day! Their ancestors had to travel far and wide to get here and look at how many 'American' heritage breeds there are today in the United States!

The chicken is one of the most dominant symbols in our history dominating aspects of our culture and culinary habits. For goodness sake, chickens joined the Romans in battle to help predict the outcomes of war!