Protein Plans, Meat Birds, and the Promise of Pigs

The wind finally calmed today.

After days of chasing tarps, reinforcing fence panels, and shouting over gusts, the stillness felt almost suspicious. But the sky held, the trees stopped thrashing, and the goats—grateful and begrudging—sunbathed in the open like queens regaining their throne.

With the quiet came a shift in mindset. April’s always a time of growth and beauty, but it’s also when I start turning a little more practical. I’ve got greens coming in, herbs taking off, and flowers teasing buds—but what about the protein?

There’s only so much one can do with eggs, after all.

The Egg Abundance Is Real (and Seasonal)

Right now, my hens are laying with abandon—Hazel’s clutch aside, I’m collecting between 10 to 12 eggs a day from the flock. That’s more than enough for me, a few neighbors, and some light barter.

But I know this won’t last forever. Summer heat, molting season, shorter days come fall—it all affects the lay rate. And while I’ve long appreciated the egg as nature’s perfect protein, I’m not blind to its limitations.

I’ve always tried to walk the line between sustainability and practicality out here. I raise what I eat. I use what I raise. And today, that line led me to a conversation I’ve been meaning to have—with myself, mostly—about meat chickens.

Starting a New Meat Flock

I’ve raised dual-purpose breeds before, but this year I’m seriously considering doing a dedicated batch of Cornish Cross broilers—fast-growing, heavy birds bred specifically for meat production. It’s not something I take lightly. Harvesting animals you’ve raised isn’t easy. But it’s honest, and it’s necessary if I want this homestead to be self-sustaining.

Today I:

- Sketched out a space behind the barn where I could build a temporary chicken tractor

- Priced out the cost of 25 chicks, feed, bedding, and a mobile shelter setup

- Reviewed my notes from last year’s processing day when I helped Daniel with his batch (messy but satisfying work)

- Blocked off a tentative processing weekend on the calendar—mid-June if I get them started by next week

It’s a short cycle—eight weeks from chick to freezer—but it’s labor intensive. I’ll have to check the tractor twice a day, haul water, monitor feed carefully, and plan for butcher day with all the respect and care those animals deserve.

Still… that’s food I know. Food I grew. Food I honor.

And that feels right.

The Pig Possibility

Then there’s the bigger question—pigs.

I’ve been circling the idea for a couple years now. Every time I say no, I find myself back on the fence (no pun intended). The truth is, pigs make a lot of sense here. They’re smart, they’re efficient, and they can turn waste into weight like nothing else.

I’ve got a low, shaded corner on the west end of the pasture that would suit a couple of weaners just fine. There’s already a spigot nearby, and I’ve got enough scrap wood and cattle panels to build a starter pen if I get creative.

So today, while walking the fenceline and dreaming of bacon, I made a list:

Pros:

- Reliable protein source

- Compost turners and land clearers

- Good use of garden and kitchen scraps

- Easier to process than I’d feared (after watching Daniel’s setup last fall)

Cons:

- Feed cost if I don’t grow enough supplement

- Fencing upgrades needed—because pigs are escape artists

- Emotional toll—pigs are smart, and it’s hard not to get attached

- I’ll need a proper freezer setup by October

Still, I found myself looking at the empty corner of that pasture and seeing life there—the rustle of ears, the soft grunt of curiosity, a future full of sun-warmed backs and clover-covered snouts.

No decisions yet. But the seed is planted.

Supper With Purpose

Dinner tonight was made with extra thought:

- A few fresh eggs, scrambled with foraged chickweed and sharp cheddar

- Pan-fried potatoes from winter storage

- A slab of smoked ham from the last barter I did with Evelyn’s nephew down the road

As I ate, I thought about what it means to raise protein intentionally—to move beyond the garden and into the messy, honest, soul-deep work of feeding yourself fully.

It’s one thing to plant seeds. It’s another to raise lives.

But I believe in whole-circle homesteading. In respecting the lives I grow and in honoring the land that makes it possible. And part of that means acknowledging the hard stuff—the things that aren’t cute or Pinterest-worthy, but that are real and vital and good.

Final Thoughts

April’s begun not with flowers, but with questions.

Can I handle meat birds this year without burning out? Can I make room—physically, emotionally—for pigs? Can I balance the abundance of eggs with the planning of harder choices?

I don’t have all the answers yet. But I do have a few truths to guide me:

  • I want to eat what I grow.

  • I want to grow what I can steward well.

  • I want to live in harmony with this land, not just draw from it.

So tonight, I’ll close the coop door, check on Hazel’s sleepy brood, whisper a thank-you to the hens, and look one more time toward the pasture’s edge.

Because sometimes the next season of the homestead begins not with a hatch, but with a thought.

Until tomorrow—
Amanda @ Wister Creek

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