Chickens Gone Rogue: When Bug Control Meets Chaos
- Debra Flaming
- Aug 19
- 2 min read
“In a world where gardeners dream of pest-free dahlias, one flock dares to take matters into their own claws. Meet the unlikely heroes—21 hens on patrol—and their fearless, feather-flashing leader, Cock of the Walk. They scratch. They peck. They conquer. But beware: with every bug they banish, a crater is born…”
Of course, around here, it’s less Hollywood blockbuster and more everyday farm life. My hens are indeed helpful little bug patrol agents—but they’re also professional dirt-flingers, mulch scatterers, and baby dahlia plant-destroyers-in-training. Let’s just say it’s a love-hate relationship, equal parts egg-cellent and exasperating.
The Helpers We Didn’t Ask For
I’ll give credit where it’s due: chickens are natural-born bug hunters. Beetles, grasshoppers, creepy crawlies—they don’t stand a chance against the sharp eyes and quick beaks of my flock. They even help aerate the soil and sprinkle fertilizer as they go (generously, I might add).
In their own feathered way, they’re garden helpers. The problem is, their idea of “helping” looks a lot like sabotage, chickens gone rogue!
The Cost of Bug Control
When chickens go to work, they don’t clock in with tidy tools—they bring claws and boundless energy. In their quest for bugs, they scratch like there’s treasure buried under every plant. Soil goes flying. Mulch becomes confetti. Carefully planned garden rows? Let’s just say the chickens didn’t get the memo.
And as for dust baths—why pick a bare patch of earth when a perfectly good flower bed will do? To a chicken, under every dahlia plant is a shady lounge spot waiting to be turned into a crater.
Enter the Star: Cock of the Walk
No story is complete without its leading man. Our rooster, affectionately (and sometimes not-so-affectionately) known as Cock of the Walk—or CW—rules the roost with a mix of confidence and pure showmanship. With his brilliant red, green, and black feathers and long, sweeping tail, he struts like he owns the farm (and honestly, he believes he does).
CW also provides a free alarm clock service—whether you like it or not. At the crack of dawn, the valley rings with his triumphant crow, a reminder to everyone within earshot that he is, indeed, the king.
The Days of Freedom
Right now, our flock is in their final weeks of freedom before they return to the coop for laying season. It feels a bit like the last days of summer break—wild, messy, and full of mischief before “school” starts. They’re squeezing in every dust bath, every wild scratch, and every bug patrol mission before settling down to the serious business of egg-laying.
And me? I watch, shake my head, and laugh. Because as much as they undo my careful gardening efforts, the truth is this farm wouldn’t be the same without them. Chickens may be chaotic, but they’re also endlessly entertaining—and they always keep life lively here at Flaming Acres Dahlias.
So tell me—if you had a flock of chickens in your garden, would you call them helpers or hooligans?
Forever Scratching My Head…
Debra Flaming
