With 100-degree weather in Nebraska this week, it seems odd to draw a comparison to a Christmas song, but the title of this post reminded me of “Twas the Night Before Christmas”. But this story has nothing to do with a mouse.
Just like any good farmer, my grandmother’s family had a little bit of everything in the late 1930s, from crops to garden to hogs and chickens. During the dry years, my great-grandmother would raise chicks for extra money. This particular year, she started in the early spring taking care of a gaggle of chickens and was anxiously looking toward August when she would sell them.
I’ve written briefly about my grandmother in previous posts because of her influence on my gardening, and this week she decided to get in on the fun and tell one of her own stories.
So take a listen as grandma takes us on her first “AgWalk” about her mother’s chickens. Listen to Grandma explain
You ask how many chickens went missing? About 350.
Until we walk again …