You may have heard about the current campaign to allow backyard chickens here in Mansfield. The debate is ongoing and there will be plenty to hear from both sides yet. But it’s clear that the ability to create a personal supply of fresh-laid eggs is appealing to a quite a number of folks.
I certainly understand that appeal. For a while I was getting my own eggs from an “egg lady” who had a nice piece of land a little ways outside Mansfield city limits with, among other things, a free-range chicken coop. I never met the egg lady. I simply turned up unannounced, collected my eggs from a small shack and left some money in a tin.
It felt mildly illicit, a touch of drug-deal excitement – only safely contained within the harmless world of eggs.
I was a late convert to eggs myself. Growing up in England, I was a fussy eater and early on decided that eggs were too “wet” to be tolerated. Incredible to believe, I also for a while declined hamburgers and once sent my mother into a screaming rage by refusing a mug of hot chocolate on the grounds that it “tasted of carrots.”
Most of these aberrations were temporary but somehow the anti-egg prejudice continued into later life. The good news is I lost it when I moved to Ohio – the scrambled eggs here are of a satisfactory consistency. Also, my first Ohio boss used to enjoy team breakfasts at Bob Evans which gave me plenty of opportunity to indulge my new-found taste.
(Interestingly, despite being strongly in favor of eggs he deplored their use outside of breakfast – their appearance at lunch was met with strong disapproval. He was also deeply suspicious of hummus and once almost punched me in an elevator when I told him I was thinking of giving up pizza.)
Now I’m a confirmed, two-a-day man. If the proposed ordinance passes here in Mansfield, I might well be interested in keeping chickens of my own. Granted, I need to do a bit of research since my knowledge is pretty limited at the moment. The only thing I know is this: if you run shouting into a group of chickens, the hens will immediately scatter, while the rooster will stand his ground for a few extra seconds with his chest puffed out before panicking and bolting off himself.
I’m not sure of the usefulness of this information – nor, indeed, of its accuracy – but I feel like it’s a start. I’m trying.
I also went to last month’s city council meeting to get up-to-speed on the arguments for and against chickens. Naturally, I hoped someone would make a reference to the use of ‘fowl language’ and I was not disappointed.
I heard the following concern raised: in these violent times, with people shooting each other, do we really want to add chickens to the mix?
Personally, I think the appeal of backyard chickening is about more than the eggs. When so many areas of life are uncertain, keeping chickens, or bees, or growing your own vegetables or brewing your own beer – all these things can give the individual more of a tangible role to play in their own existence, and give the feeling of a little bit more security, a little bit more control.
It’s also about getting back to nature and an old-fashioned way of living, but without dropping out altogether to head off to the rural beyond.
Some would suggest – and did, at the council meeting – that if you want to engage in these country activities you should just quit the city and move there.
The pro-chicken lobby, for their part, point to the many Ohio cities that have already approved similar measures with apparent success.
The debate continues, and no doubt will continue to do so.
Look for Steve Russell’s column on Sunday mornings at RichlandSource.com
