Well, that didn’t go well.

This week’s experiment was to make fermented chicken feed. Of the many expectations touted, I was most interested in three: it was healthier for the chickens, it was money-saving, and it was easy to do.

It looked like it was working. It sat on my counter. It bubbled. I stirred it every day. At the end of four days, though, about the only positive thing I can say with this first attempt (it’s unknown if there will be anther try) is that it was entertaining.

D-day came and, as I was in a hurry to leave for work, I asked Oscar to pour off the excess water and split it between two dishes.

I came into the living room to find Oscar deep breathing. Me: “What’s wrong with you?” O: “I can’t.” Me: “Nonsense.” He finished the job but it included a lot of this from him – while I laughed hysterically.

The roosters in the front yard avoided their dish for a couple of days and when they finally ate some, scrubbed out their mouths. The chickens in the coop did eat theirs, I think.

I do not know what the future of fermented feed is for my household. I’ll have to cogitate on it for awhile.

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