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Raising Chickens Was Unique

    The contrast in the production of eggs is seen when I go to Everett's mother, Mrs Richard Kruckenberg's farm* and see the chickens running all over the farm when weather is suitable, or to my cousin, Leonard Kroemer's farm ** and see his 6800 hens confined in cages, never touching the earth.

     I seem to have a faint recollection of 'settin' hens', clucks, that would set on a nest of eggs for 21 days to hatch baby chicks. However, my folks who lived where Junior Sander *** now lives, went 'mod' and bought baby chicks from a hatchery. The brooder house had to be scrubbed with the wash water and disinfected, litter spread on the floor to give it a strong medicinal odor. The brooder stove was fuelled by kerosene and had to be in good working condition 'cause the building had to be warm, - like 95 degrees! The big hover took up a good share of the floor space, for this was the artificial mother hen where the baby chicks would run for safety when a strange sound was heard. After several weeks the chicks would start picking each other, and then it was time to run them outside. A small pen had been built to keep them in and the cats out!

     A sudden rain storm would send us scurrying to chase in the little chicks, for they were too 'dumb' to get out of the rain. Should they get quite wet, Mom would put them in baskets or buckets and set them behind the kitchen range to dry out. Eventually they learned where home base was, and then they were allowed freedom of the farm. We always looked forward to the time the young roosters would learn to crow. When the young pullets would start laying eggs oh, they were tiny ones. Many were given away as they brought very little at the produce market. Since our brooderhouse was quite some distance from the laying house, the pullets laid eggs ALL over – under a horse's feed box in the barn, in the calf manger, on top of the loose straw, also in the hog house, under the machinery way back in a corner of the machine shed, in an abandoned car, in a box in the cattle shed, under the corn crib and in the weeds. Fall meant catching chickens and placing them in the laying house for the winter. It took weeks until the last one was caught. They loved to roost in the trees at night.

     Occasionally an old hen would hide her eggs and the first we would know about it was when she proudly displayed her new family of baby chicks. Only those who have seen it, can appreciate the cuteness of baby chicks contentedly peeking out from their safe place under mother hen's wings. And believe me, it was safe! We had great respect for a mother hen who would fight to protect her young. We also had a rooster who chased me, guess that's when I learned to run. Sometimes a cluck would abandon her nest of eggs, and if the eggs were cold, we knew they would not hatch. By shaking them, we knew which ones definitely were rotten, but there was no candling or grading to determine good from bad. I think this is where some farm youngster got their pitching ability, as there was nothing else to do but break the rotten eggs by throwing them against a tree, stone, or some solid object. Art Kruckenberg will not let me forget that one time I used him for that target while he was shocking oats. Every yard and garden had to be fenced to keep out the chickens, and it seems the chickens favorite loafing place always was on the ce- . . .

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. . . ment walks just outside the houseyard gates. One always wanted to be sure to check the soles of shoes!

              Mrs Everett (Ruth Nieting) Kruckenberg

    *This farm is located in N ½ of the NW 14 of Section 34 in Massillon Twp.

     ** This farm is located in NW ¼ of Section 28 in Massillon Twp.

     *** This farm is located in SE ¼ of Section 22 in Massillon Twp.