My family thinks I’m, well, how do I put this, a little nuts, and they might be right. I’ve been chasing chickens. Not literally, of course, but I am sort of obsessed with chickens. In Medford, we had our first flock about eight years ago. My husband built a wonderful hen house and chicken run on the side of our property, and we got eight chicks from the local co-op. We started them in a large Rubbermaid bin in the guest room, but the smell soon got the best of us. Who knew a few baby chicks could be so stinky? After spending time in a large box in the garage, they were moved to the coop. Soon after, there was “the chicken incident”, which involved the need to “put down” one of the chickens and a decision about whether or not to take the said chicken to the vet and pay him to do the deed. Having already spent too much on the coop, let’s just say that “the chicken incident” ended with a large kitchen knife and a deceased chicken. ‘Nuff said. Down to seven chickens. At about four mo...