Y’all. This wind is no joke.
You may have heard about the dust and wind storms sweeping through the Great Plains, from Texas all the way across the Nation. Well, that’s us. We’re right in the thick of it here in North Central Texas—an hour north of the DFW Metroplex, and about 30 minutes south of the Red River and the Oklahoma state line.
I’ve been watching the winds pick up all afternoon, that steady, ominous build that makes you pause and listen to the trees creak. Sure enough, when the gusts started hitting hard, I slipped on my flip flops, and my friend that was visiting and I headed out to check on the animals, knowing from experience that windy weather and chickens don’t always mix.
Now, a little backstory: we ditched the walk-in height meat chicken pens about three years ago after watching them cartwheel across the pasture like tumbleweeds. I kid you not, one spring we were ratchet-strapping the last pen to the tractor just to keep it from taking flight! Lesson learned.
These days, we use lower-profile pens—just 24 inches tall with latching lids that, for the most part, handle the wind like champs. Mostly.
So out I went, and sure enough, one of the lids had blown clean off. I spotted it about 100 feet away, flung across the field like a frisbee. I sent the kids sprinting up to their dad’s office to call him out with the tractor, while I handled the next fire.
The layers' house, affectionately named the Eggspedition, is a lightweight camping trailer we converted into a mobile hen house. It’s been a great setup, but let me tell you, even that heavy little trailer was rocking with these 60 mph gusts. I tried to angle it nose-first into the wind, but there’s only so much you can do when you’re dealing with mother nature’s fury.
To help stabilize it, I parked the side-by-side right up next to the trailer hitch to act as a wind block. Meanwhile, the shade cloth we guy out for the hens—gives them shelter and predator protection—was flapping wildly. One corner kept whipping around, threatening to tear or worse, spook or injure the flock.
Rolling that shade cloth back up and tying it off was no small feat. It required me to stand on the side of the trailer opposite the wind--the same side that would have been crushed under the Eggspedition if the wind got sneaky and decided to tip the whole thing over. I stood there for a good 5-6 minutes, just reading the wind, watching the trees sway, feeling the energy in the air, and praying to my Heavenly Father before I worked up the nerve to go in and secure it.
I wasn’t about to let that thing batter my girls—but I also wasn’t keen on getting flattened myself!
While I was handling the shade cloth, Darrin rolled out with the tractor, scooped up that rogue pen lid, and helped me get it back on. Then, with some good ol’ farm ingenuity, he parked the tractor and dropped the bucket—hay forks still attached—on top of the meat chicken pens to hold them steady. Simple. Effective.
Crisis averted.
For now.
Today? The winds are back for round two. No dust this time, thank goodness, but we’re still on high alert.
Here’s the thing about chickens in high winds:
They don’t like it. Chickens are creatures of habit, and wild, whipping winds can stress them out big time. We keep an eye out for signs of distress—panting, huddling in corners, or refusing to leave the coop.
Their shelters matter. Low-profile pens, well-anchored mobile coops, and wind blocks like trees, trailers, or equipment all help prevent disaster.
Safety first. For them and for us. I’d love to say farming is all about fresh air and sunshine, but it’s often about making quick decisions under pressure and working smart to protect both livestock and your own skin.
If you’re out there dealing with this crazy weather, I see you. Take care of your animals—but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.
And maybe, just maybe, keep a ratchet strap handy.
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