It was a small farm in a little rural town by the Indiana state border. I lived there from ages 5 to 12, I would say, before we moved to Dallas. We had chickens and a vegetable garden, and I had to get up to milk the goats at seven in the morning or do it at seven at night.
I’m focusing on cultivating my land. I have vegetables and fruit trees; I want to get some chickens and solar and really get off the grid and focus on just, really, being a mother.
Look at Julie Etchingham and Katie Derham, none of us are spring chickens frankly, I don’t think people want to watch someone who’s wet behind the ears, you have to look like you understand what you are reading about.
We used to live in this little house where the whole of the upper floor was used for chickens. It was four days’ walk to the nearest road.
I grew up on a farm. The worst-looking chickens are the best layers. The ones that are the scraggliest… those are usually the ones that are really cooking.
As a child. I grew up on a small farm, so I did a lot of drawings of animals, chickens and people. At the bottom of every page, I’d put a strange scribble. I was emulating adult handwriting, though I didn’t actually know how to write.
My partner loves gardening and beekeeping and chickens and all that stuff.
I spent a lot of time on farms when I was growing up, and I’ve been obsessed with the practical logic of farmyards – the turning radius of tractors, where the chickens and ducks might go. It’s not a place where stand-alone aesthetic decisions make a lot of sense.
Our main deal is pastured livestock. So we have beef cattle, pigs, turkeys, laying chickens, meat chickens, rabbit, lamb and ducks – egg-layer ducks.
Jobs, as such, are a relatively new concept. People may have always worked, but until the advent of the corporation in the early Renaissance, most people just worked for themselves. They made shoes, plucked chickens, or created value in some way for other people, who then traded or paid for those goods and services.
If you know somethin’ well, you can always paint it but people would be better off buyin’ chickens.
My earliest memory was going to my grandma’s house, milking the cows, and collecting the eggs from the chickens.
When I grew up, we always had our chickens, and we ate our eggs, and we ate our chickens. The family always had a pig, and we would kill it at Christmas and eat it for three or four months afterwards.
Chickens from smaller producers tend to be smaller in size, and therefore have an optimal ratio of bone to meat, for a juicier fried chicken.
The difference between H7N9 and H5N1, is that H5N1 kills chickens very rapidly, so it is easy to identify where the infected flocks of chickens are. H7N9 doesn’t make the chicken sick, so it has been difficult to pinpoint where the infected chickens are.
Every unwanted animal ends up on my farm: alpacas and horses and dogs and cats and chickens and ducks and parrots and fish and guinea pigs.
Rickey got a big ranch. Rickey got a big bull. Rickey got horses. Rickey got chickens and everything. And Rickey got a 20-gallon hat.
The first time I was cooking for my wife, Stephanie, way before she was my wife, I actually put three chickens on the rotisserie and I closed the grill, which is really a bad idea. But I just wasn’t thinking very straight that day. And I looked outside and I saw, like, smoke and flames.
In the States, time with friends can feel a bit like those PETA videos of chickens on factory farms: slotted and squeezed into tight compartments.
I’ve picked butter beans, okra, watermelon, cantaloupe, honeydew. I’ve butchered pigs, chickens. We made our own sausage and pudding.
A Jewish woman had two chickens. One got sick, so the woman made chicken soup out of the other one to help the sick one get well.
I grew up in the English countryside, raising ducks and chickens.
If people knew how KFC treats its chickens, they’d never eat another drumstick.
I haven’t changed. My family and I live as we did in South Spain. I’ve had loud music, chickens, birds, and a bull in my backyard.
My parents made no money whatsoever, but they really knew how to see, as artists. So a big adventure might be, on a hot, dreadful day with no place to go, to go out and draw our chickens with pastels. My parents gave me a sense of wonder.
It is not unprofessional to give free legal advice, but advertising that the first visit will be free is a bit like a fox telling chickens he will not bite them until they cross the threshold of the hen house.
We used to be called the Dixie Chickens. Then we played at a barbecue place, and they had a sign saying, ‘Featured Tonight: The Dixie Chickens,’ and everybody started ordering it for dinner! So we shortened it.
I had almost three acres of land in Beverly Hills. And I had a big atrium of chickens because I love that feeling of being in the country and living from the soil.
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