Chicken Math: A Cautionary Tale (But Not Really, Because I Regret Nothing)

Chicken Math (noun): The mysterious phenomenon wherein a perfectly reasonable number of backyard chickens somehow multiplies exponentially without the chicken-keeper fully understanding how or why.

Often begins with the innocent phrase, “I’ll just get 3 hens,” and ends with 27 chickens, a brooder in the garage, an incubator in the laundry room, and a coop expansion plan that involves power tools and divorce negotiations.

Side effects may include: impulsive trips to the feed store, naming chickens after golden girls or exes, and trying to convince your partner that bantams don’t count as whole chickens.

Chicken Math is real. And I have fallen victim to it.

We were perfectly content with our flock—20 hens and 1 1/2 roosters. (Just trust me on that one.) That was a solid number. Respectable. Manageable. Plenty.

And then... we went to visit our grown kids in Fort Collins.

While we were there, we stopped by a feed store called Jax (which we don’t have near us, and frankly, that might be for the best). This place is amazing. Like, hide-your-wallet amazing. And guess what we saw?

Chicks.

An amazing selection of baby chicks in all the rainbow of floofy flavors—including breeds I’d only ever drooled over in glossy hatchery catalogs.

Did we need more chicks?

No.

Were they right there in front of me, within my immediate grasp?

Yes.

Could I resist them?

Absolutely not.

So, naturally, we drove six and a half hours home with a box of seven chirping chicks on my lap.

And then, only a couple days later, three of our hens went broody. Between them, they’re now sitting on approximately thirty eggs. THIRTY. If even half of those hatch, we’re going to need a bigger farm.

So why—WHY—did we just bring home eight more baby chicks on top of all that?

Great question. I wish I had a rational explanation, but honestly? It’s all kind of a blur.

We were in a neighboring town and stopped by this old-school feed store "just to check it out". Well! They just happened to have baby chicks. And those chicks just happened to be on my chicken breed bucket list. And also, my husband is my enabler.

Great question. I wish I had a rational explanation, but honestly? It’s all kind of a blur.

We were in a neighboring town and stopped by this old-school feed store "just to check it out". When I went to investigate the faint chirping I heard coming from the back room, I found—you guessed it—baby chicks. And those chicks just happened to be on my chicken breed bucket list. And also, my husband is my enabler.

Chicks.

On my chicken breed bucket list.

There was something intoxicating in the air in that moment. I think I was high.

High on chickens.

Is that a thing?

I felt floaty. Disconnected from logic. I started pointing at bins like I was ordering donuts from Dunkin'. “Two of those, please! And two of those! Oh my gosh, definitely two of those. AND GIMME SOME OF THOSE!”

No one stopped me. Not my husband, not myself, not the Holy Spirit.

Just another casualty of chicken math

And now? Now we are overflowing with chickens.

I don’t even know our current chicken count. I refuse to tally them up. I can’t. I won’t. There are still eggs incubating under the broody mamas and I’m not emotionally ready for that math.

But you know what? It’s fine.

At least I'm not doing drugs.

I’m just going to embrace it.