My first experience with chickens was at my Grandfathers home, which still stands today, looking much the same generations later. I learned to walk then run with my chicken companions, throwing them corn and grains as I went. I loved the interdependent, self-maintaining system of farming, keeping livestock and gardens. Nothing was wasted and everything had a purpose. Life had a rhythm depending on the season which couldn’t be hurried along but celebrated when everything came to its full ripeness.
My Father and his brothers bagging grain, that’s me in white.
My Father and I with the homestead in the background.
In front of Grandfathers Farm
Me in practically the same spot 30 years later
My Uncles chickens
The neighbors’ chickens
Poultry vendors at the town Piaz (market)
Geese, ducks, and chickens!