Just a girl with a Chicken Dream

I have always wanted chickens.

But there's one small problem—we live in a city.

Now, before you picture a city like  New York, Boston, or Chicago, let me clarify. Our “city” is technically one of the smallest in the country. You can walk the entire length of it in under 15 minutes.  It has a small handful of businesses.  It is more a small town, even though on paper, it’s a city. In fact, our property used to have a barn on it, back when agriculture was more common here. That’s how rural it used to be.

But times have changed. And with city ordinances in place, agricultural animals like chickens aren’t allowed.

That didn’t stop the dream though. When we bought our off-grid property, I knew there was a better chance of finally having chickens. But in the first year, we were too busy clearing trails and exploring to even think about animals. Year two? I was all-in on building up the garden.

Then came the egg shortage.

Suddenly, the idea of raising chickens went from a “someday” dream to something more necessary. I’ve always leaned into self-sufficiency—I can my own garden produce, I buy in bulk, and I like knowing where my food comes from when I can. So when I found myself deciding between spending $20 on a case of 90 eggs (the best deal per egg I could find) or sacrificing a tenth of my (already too high) grocery budget, I decided: This is the year.

As soon as I saw those “Chick Days” signs in early spring, I started gathering supplies—just a little at a time. A small waterer here, a feeder and a heat lamp there. I bought a bag of chick feed. Some bedding. Easy enough.

But finding chicks? That was the hard part.

Every year I wasn’t looking, farm stores seemed to be overflowing with chicks. But this year? Delayed shipments due to cold weather. Then when they started shipping they were sold out instantly. My kids even were calling stores daily asking, “Do you have chicks yet?”

Finally, after checking my local store without luck, I called a store a bit farther away. And yes—they had chicks in stock!

When I arrived at the store, I had two options: Sexed Wyandottes or Unsexed Rhode Island Reds.

The Wyandottes were darker, with a couple of lighter brown stripes on their backs. The Rhode Island Reds were the classic fluffy yellow chicks you see in Easter ads. I went back and forth—should I get six of each?

But what if all six Rhode Island Reds turned out to be roosters?

Standing there, staring at over a hundred bouncing peeps, I asked an employee how to tell the difference. She mentioned some old wives’ tales—dangling them upside down, wing patterns, all the tricks. Nothing foolproof.

As I hesitated, another woman walked up and said, “I want 20 of those,” pointing to the Wyandottes. That was it for me—I had to decide fast before they boxed up her 20 and I'm left with less than I wanted. I’m not a gambler. I didn’t want to deal with culling five roosters. So I got 10 sexed Wyandottes and 2 unsexed Rhode Island Reds.

When my kids got home from school, they were thrilled. I hadn’t told them I’d finally found chicks. I just let the peeping sounds in the house do the talking. Cue squeals, excitement, and lots of baby chick snuggles.

A few days later, we noticed something.

“One of these things is not like the other…”

It turned out our 10 Wyandottes were actually 9 Wyandottes—and 1 imposter. The oddball had a fluffy white belly, grey and black back, and black feet like a baby penguin.He quickly became everyone’s favorite—easy to spot in the brooder, easy to snuggle.They affectionately named this chick Jack Black. I warned them Jack Black could be a hen, and they didn't care it would still be named Jack Black.

As the weeks passed using the wing shape method, I confirmed that our Rhode Island Reds were one rooster and one hen. So glad I didn’t get six! I applied the same trick to Jack Black and started suspecting he was, well… a Jack after all.

By now you might be wondering: Didn’t you say you can’t have chickens at home? And isn’t your other property just raw land? Don’t chicks need heat lamps?

Yes. Yes. And yes.

For the first few weeks, most people raise chicks indoors anyway. The chick brooder lived in my office for a couple weeks. As they outgrew the brooder, we moved them into their coop in our garage with a heat lamp. Once they were big enough to not need the heat lamp, they were moved to the property. 

Bringing chicks home was more than just adding a few cute animals to our life—it was the first real step toward a dream I’ve had for years. Sure, it wasn’t perfect. We still lived in the city. The chicks needed to live at the property. But in that moment, with peeping chicks in the brooder and my kids sneaking in for “just one more snuggle,” none of that mattered.

We were doing it.

The flock was growing, and so was our adventure. Next up? Moving the coop, a safe run, and figuring out how to make it all work on land that’s wild, off-grid, and full of potential.

Stay tuned for Part Two—where we give our flock their new home.