Remember that chicken at the fair that could pick out the Queen of Hearts from a deck of cards? Or the one that could kick your booty at Tic Tac Toe? Well, it was on a dark, cold night, as I’m crawling around on the floor of the chicken coop, smearing chicken poop all over myself, that these visions came to me. I’m out in the freezing temperatures, stretched out on the bottom of the coop. I was trying to coax the chickens up into the roost (i.e., I’m grabbing each one and hurling it into the roost), when it occurred to me: Maybe the chickens have trained me instead of me training the chickens.
It was at that moment I decided to TAKE BACK THE FARM! Ok…well, take back the chicken coop at least. But someday I’ll take back the farm. I hope. Anyway, for today, I decided to train them to go into the roost at night. It’s warm in the roost, and I can lock them up there so nothing can dig under the coop at night and get them. It’s been a good anti-predator strategy for me.
So the next evening, before it got very dark, I went out to the coop with cracked corn. Cracked corn is the nectar of the gods to my chickens. They will do just about anything for it. So while they were out rambling around the coop, I made a path of the golden treat all the way up the little ladder from the bottom chicken run into the coop. And then I went inside and waited.
When I went out later to assess my plan’s success, I was shocked and amazed to see every chicken sitting quietly in the roost. They were staring at me like it was totally their idea to come in out of the cold. I decided not to burst their little bubbles and just went with it. I also added a warming light in the roost for winter to give them some extra incentive. And for the most part, it worked. I had fewer chicken wrestling matches every evening, which is a good thing.
The other chicken behavior that I have worked to modify is that of “egg dropping.” So sometimes, when a chicken decides it’s time to lay an egg, she just plops it out. And I mean, she plops it out.…whenever or wherever she might be at the time. This can result in eggs getting broken, stepped on, pooped on, and it can also require you, once again, to have to crawl inside the coop to recover them. The inside of a chicken coop is just not a place anyone wants to crawl. Ick.
So I grabbed one of my husband’s golf balls (it looks a little like an egg) and put it in the nesting box. Once again, while it’s not a perfect science, it does seem to eventually do the trick. After a while, they begin to understand that eggs are better placed in a bed of straw.
I’ve done a ton of reading on the subject of chicken training. I know, my life is really kind of sad. There are many who will argue that chickens are little geniuses. While I love my chickens dearly, I tend to side with the “chickens are not so smart” camp. Doesn’t brain size somewhat affect cognitive ability? There are multiple opinions on the topic, but it seems to make sense to my simple mind.
It also tracks for me that the less complex the brain, the easier it is to train. My reasoning is that chickens have ways fewer arguments going on up there to stop them from following the corn…or the golf ball…or the light.
Don’t look for my chickens and I anytime soon on the Tic Tac Toe circuit. I’ll be sticking with simple, meaningful tasks. And if anyone out there has training tips for pre-teens, please give me a call. I doubt the cracked corn is going to hold much clout with these complex creatures….but cell phones, on the other hand….
Hugs and blessings always,
LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS
Have you thought about training the pre-teens to crawl in the chicken poop?
Now there’s an idea, Herb Collins…..