Welcome to The Barnyard Ladies.
I’m Pearl, and this little corner of the internet is where I write about life on a small hobby farm out west — one acre, a flock of opinionated chickens, more vegetables than I know what to do with, and a workshop full of half-finished projects.
The “ladies” in the name are mostly my hens. The flock size changes with the seasons — some years more, some years fewer — but there are always enough of them around to keep things lively. They have opinions. About the weather. About each other. About whether I’m late with breakfast. They run the place, honestly. I just feed them and write things down.
Pearl. She runs a tight ship.
The rest of the acre is split between a 20-by-20 greenhouse that I’m always either bragging about or apologizing to, a 50-by-50 garden that produces more veggies than any household should reasonably have to deal with, and a red tractor that I love more than is probably healthy.
When I’m not out there, I’m usually in the shop making something — painted signs, seasonal décor, layered wood projects. There’s always sawdust on my boots and paint on my hands, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
This blog is the place where it all comes together — chickens, gardens, and the kind of farmhouse projects you can actually pull off on a Saturday afternoon. New posts every week. Pull up a chair.
The Ladies
There are somewhere north of two dozen hens on this acre, and the number changes depending on the season and who’s been sweet-talking whom at the feed store. A few of them have earned names, which around here means they’ve earned opinions.
Pearl is the boss and my namesake, which she considers correct. Ethel is a Naked Neck — a Turken, if you want the polite term — and she has strong feelings about treats, specifically that she should have all of them. Hazel is our other Naked Neck, dark-feathered and unbothered by nearly everything, which makes her the easiest hen I’ve ever kept. And then there’s Phyllis, a Polish hen with a feathered crest bigger than her judgment. Legend. Icon. Total drama.
The rest of the flock rotates through the yard like extras with strong union representation. They all get fed the same.
The Crow Brothers
This spring, these crows took up residence over the coop and appointed themselves security. I didn’t hire them. They don’t answer to me. But nothing lands in that yard without these guys announcing it, and the hawks have noticed. I wrote about them over on The Small Farm Blog — link goes to their full story, badges and all.
— Pearl
The Barnyard Ladies 