Place

Boyhood Farm Chicken Coop

A gray Plymouth Rock hen perches on a wooden beam of a chicken coop. — Plymouth Rock chickens were one of many breeds the Carters raised on their farm.
NPS / Laura Kuyat

Benches/Seating, Historical/Interpretive Information/Exhibits, Pets Allowed

The chicken coop was an essential part of farm life, providing eggs and occasional meals for the Carter family. Young Jimmy was responsible for feeding the chickens and gathering eggs, a task he later recalled as teaching him responsibility and the value of hard work.

“We always had a yard full of chickens, plus some turkeys, guinea fowl, ducks, and a few peacocks, most of which were raised from eggs to adults. Once or twice a year, Daddy would order several hundred baby chicks from Sears, Roebuck or another supply house to supplement our need for broilers and eggs to eat or sell. When it was time for fried chicken or chicken pie, Mama would say, "Jimmy, go get me a big broiler, or a hen," and my job was to catch the chicken, kill it by wringing its neck, and bring it onto the back porch for cleaning and dressing. The domesticated hens – mostly white leghorns, Plymouth Rocks, and Rhode Island Reds – were inclined to use the nests that we had placed in sheds, alongside the buildings, and in the low crotches of trees.

During all those years, chicken eggs were a readily accepted form of currency. Everyone knew the price of eggs of different sizes at the wholesale and retail level. It was a matter of honor for a seller to assure their freshness, and there was an automatic replacement guarantee. A rotten egg could seriously damage the reputation of anyone who knowingly foisted it off on a merchant, and then ultimately on an unsuspecting housewife. However, despite precautions, a bad egg was inevitable every now and then and could wreak havoc in a mixing of dough for biscuits or a cake. Habitually, we even broke the eggs from our own yard into a separate bowl for a preliminary examination, because some might have remained in one of the more hidden nests for several days before being found.”
- Jimmy Carter, An Hour Before Daylight