Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Which Came First? - Review of McMurray Hatchery

I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Bud Wood, president of Murray McMurray Hatchery for my evaluation paper in my college English class. He was very gracious with his time and his passion for his work was quite evident. I also conducted surveys online in various chicken keeping forums. The following is the paper, somewhat refined, removing the citations to make it easier to read. I thought you might enjoy it. And considering it's that time of year, I would give my highest recommendation to choose McMurray for your poultry needs. (All information was collected from the interview, the surveys and the McMurray website.)


The catalog arrived in January while the snow was piling up outside. It was perfect timing. The hubbub of the holidays was over and we had plenty of time to make plans for the coming spring. My Dad and I perused the Murray McMurray Hatchery catalog trying to decide which of the one-hundred and ten different breeds of poultry we would like to raise. He wanted the practical egg layers. I, being ten years old at the time, wanted the fancy chickens with the funky hairdos. We settled for a little of both and added a few of the green-egg-laying Easter Egger chickens just for fun.

The weeks passed and the weather warmed. One weekday morning, bright and early before the sun even came up, the telephone rang. “Hello?” I answered.

“Hi, this is Gladys at the post office,” she said.

“Hi Gladys.”

“Can you tell your Dad he has a package here?”

“Sure thing, I’ll have him stop on his way home from work.”

“No honey, I think he’ll want to come now.”

“Why’s that, Gladys?”

“The package is peeping.”

Every year Murray McMurray Hatchery ships out 1.7 million baby chicks in peeping packages all across the country and they’ve been doing so since 1917. They pride themselves on providing quality chicks to the small farm flock and hobbyist; sixty percent of the chicks they sell are sold in batches of twenty-five chickens, the minimum order. Their catalog and website reach rural markets where retail outlets are not available.

During the peak spring season, McMurray ships an average of 2,300 orders per week. The company employs roughly twenty-five full-time employees and seventy-five to one-hundred seasonal employees. A new, state-of-the-art, 26,000 square foot facility was built in 1991. The building provides separate areas for egg storage and preparation, incubation, hatching, washing /clean up, and a workroom.

Surprisingly, even though they are considered a rare breed hatchery, only forty percent of their business is in rare breeds. Demand determines which breeds are offered. Bud Wood, president of the company, says, “Most people want a basic flock of good egg layers and only add a few rare chickens for color." The most popular breeds of laying hens are production stock such as Rhode Island Reds and the Red Star; Cornish Rock is the most popular meat bird, prized for the fast growth.

“Over the past two years, there has been an increase in demand from two groups” said Wood, “the suburban backyard chicken enthusiast and the organic/all natural consumer." The company is meeting the demands of these customers by supplying equipment and organic/all natural feeds and supplements which can be very difficult to find in the marketplace.

McMurray Hatchery leads the market by providing a wide selection of breeds, healthy chicks and excellent customer service. Of the customers surveyed, one-hundred percent were satisfied with the wide selection of breeds. With 110 breeds to choose from, McMurray leads the industry in the amount of breeds offered. A free-range meat bird, such as the Freedom Ranger, is not offered but cockerels of other breeds can often fill this niche.

Health and quality is, of course, the most important factor when purchasing any livestock. Of those surveyed, ninety-six percent were satisfied with the quality of chicks they received. “We go to great lengths to ensure the health and wellbeing of the chicks,” Wood said. McMurray guarantees the live arrival and livability of their chicks. If notified of a problem within forty-eight hours of the chick’s arrival they will provide replacements, credit your account or provide a refund.

Most survey participants expressed that they had no issues at all with their orders. Of the few who did have an issue, all were satisfied with the resolution. Customer service representatives are available during regular business hours. All survey participants rated the customer service they received as excellent. McMurray’s commitment to customer service is well known in the industry, giving them an excellent reputation.

Suggestions of lowering the minimum order or providing a forum for groups of individuals to pool orders were made as possible improvements the company should consider. Most city ordinances will only allow for a small amount of hens to be kept. The twenty-five chick minimum is too high for most urban chicken keepers. Also, given the recent state of the economy, most customers are concerned about the rising cost of the products.

The catalog has always been the driving factor in their business; however, lately the internet is responsible for fifty percent of their orders. “People will always need someone to ask questions of, so I don’t see the phone service ever going away,” said Wood. “They need answers quickly and we’ll be here to provide them." Survey participants overwhelmingly appreciated having the print catalog available; however they suggested they would like to see more actual photos of the breeding stock versus an artist rendering.

I couldn’t resist asking Mr. Wood at the end of the interview if he kept his own flock of chickens. He does, or his daughters do I should say. “My daughters take eggs to school for their teachers instead of apples,” said Wood. I couldn’t help but smile at that. In 2002 my father was diagnosed with cancer. We reminisced about a lot of things, including the chickens we had kept years ago. When we talked about it, there was a sparkle in Dad’s eye that I hadn’t seen in a long time. He said, “We should order a catalog.” We did, and when it arrived we enjoyed the time we spent choosing our breeds and discussing the merits of each.

This time, when the peeping package arrived, my Dad was on hospice care. The chicks lived in a plastic swimming pool just next to his makeshift bed in the living room. They provided hours of entertainment when we needed it most. It wasn’t until after Dad passed away that my brother and I realized we had no idea what we were going to do with twenty-five half-grown chickens. Luckily, my uncle stepped in and cared for them for a few years. Then, when I found my own place in the country, they moved in with me. Now that the flock has dwindled over the years, I find myself perusing the catalog with my own son, choosing our favorite breeds and discussing the merits of each.

McMurray Hatchery doesn’t just sell chickens. They provide fond memories to thousands of recipients of peeping packages everywhere and have done so for generations; with their sound business practices I believe they will continue to do so for years to come.




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Jack-in-the-Box

It just occured to me that I have a Jack-in-the-box. *snicker, snort* 
 
 
 
Wow, I really need to get out more...
 
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Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Mother's Instinct

He was spending his days outside in the freezing cold. When he had the chance, and he thought it was safe, he would hide in the small, three-sided shelter in the chicken run. Trying to stay as far away from his son, JB, as possible was hard to do considering he only has one eye. Old One-Eyed Calico Jack can't even rely on peripheral vision. A chicken's eye is on the side of its head, not the front like a human. So poor Old Jack has to continually turn his body to see what is around him. After the coup in the coop, when he lost his position as king of the roost, he basically spent three very paranoid days spinning in circles.

Despite his protests, I couldn't just leave him outside at night. He had to go inside. So I would chase him all around the run until he finally conceded and ran into the coop heading straight for the nest box where Precious was brooding her clutch of eggs. It's a small box; I can't imagine she was very happy about sharing it. But it did provide the safe haven Jack desperately needed. You see, JB seemed to have swollen up with testosterone after his hostile takeover. Any time he would see Jack he would try to chase him off, or worse, beat him up.

The second night, when I chased Jack in, he ran up the plank and into the coop. The minute I shut the door behind him, I heard an awful racket. JB had been laying-in-wait just inside the door. I bolted out of the run and around to the human entrance in time to scare the daylights out of JB. I was furious. I didn't care if it was nature’s way or not. His behavior was the equivalent of the school bully picking on the special needs kid. MY special needs kid. And I was going to have none of that. I wanted to string him up right then and there, but I counted to ten and then calmly explained what happens to bad roosters around here and told him he had twenty-four hours to get his act together. Or else.

Meanwhile, Jack had gotten cozy with Precious in the nest box again. The following day, I moved the expectant mother and her nest to the back porch where she could hatch her babies in peace. Jack spent his day outside again. He would peck and cluck and try to get the ladies to come out and join him, but they wouldn't do it. If he got too close to the coop, JB would come out and chase him away. That night, when it was time for all the animals to turn in for the night, Old Jack was still outside. When I raised my arms to signal it was time to go inside, he just sat down, letting me reach down and pick him up. I think he was saying, "I give up. I can't do it anymore. Please don't make me go back in there."

As badly as I felt for Precious, I just couldn't put Jack back in the coop. Instead, he joined her on the porch. He ate like a pig and then slept like a log. Even though the brooder is the size of a large coffin, he insisted on sleeping in the shoebox-size nest with her. I think he just needed to snuggle.

Now, after a good night's sleep, he's king again. King of the box instead of king of the roost, but that's okay with Jack. It's his box and that's all that matters. And to top it off, he's not only king, he's also a proud poppa. A chick hatched sometime last night and today they are one big happy family.

I wanted to get a nice photo for the baby announcement, but Precious is having no part of that. I don't blame her. A mother's instinct is the most powerful force on earth. If she wants to protect her baby, I'm sure not going to argue with her.
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Monday, March 1, 2010

See You In Sochi

Like millions of other young athletes across the globe, I have been inspired the last few weeks. It's not all glory. We have all witnessed the blood, sweat, tears, heartache and pain involved. The pain part is what has always prevented me from having even an ounce of competitiveness in my body. But watching the immensely talented knitters participating in Yarn Harlot's Knitting Olympics push themselves to greatness made me think to myself, "You know, maybe I can do that?" It seems much safer than rocketing thirty feet into the air on a snowboard. So I set out to find the very best coaches, convinced them I had it in me and started on a training mission...

Viola! May I present to you my very first finished object. A plaid dishcloth. (Feel free to ooh and aah here.)

Seems it's never to late for Olympic dreams, even old dogs can learn new tricks. See you all in Sochi!
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Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Natives are Restless

Tensions are strained. The seemingly never-ending winter has caused some political upheaval around here. There has been a coup in the coop. Old One-Eyed Calico Jack, leader of the bantam flock, has been overthrown and ousted. His own son, JB (Jack's Boy), has taken over the roost.
The former leader spent the entire day outside the coop yesterday, hiding in a small three-sided shelter. This morning he was found cowering behind a broody hen inside the nest boxes. If today's peace negotiations fail, one of them will be forced into exile. Should it be Old One-Eyed Calico Jack, the blind-as-a-bat, lovable, bumbling, disbled veteran? Or JB the young, handsome, up-and-coming whippersnapper?
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Monday, February 22, 2010

We Call Her Spaz Cat

"I shall will the can of tuna open with my mind, if I just concentrate hard enough."
(Cue the Mission Impossible music...)

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Friday, February 19, 2010

Olympic Dreams

I actually managed to get out of the house today while the sun was shining for a little much-needed fiber therapy. Of course, the best place for that is Sheep Street. It's a long hike from my place, but it's always worth it. When I arrived, I couldn't help but stop and say hello to the ladies in the assisted-living pasture. They asked that I give their regards to Sophia and the other Golden Girls, then as I turned I heard them gossiping about who belonged to who and whether or not Blanche was married. I left them to it.

 
I didn't have time for chit chat. I had training to do. With Angie as my coach and Pirate, the cat, as the official judge I performed my first ever solo run at knitting.

 
I didn't win a gold medal, I didn't even make it close to the podium. But with Angie's expert tutelage, I mastered the cast on, knit, purl, garter stitch, stockinette stitch, ribbing and binding off technical aspects of the sport.


So ladies, those of you participating in Yarn Harlot's knitting olympics, look out. All I need is to work on my finesse. Four years from now, I may be a contender.

(Can you believe that Pirate lives in a yarn store and never bothers anything? I was home two minutes and Ethel was all over my ball of yarn. I may have to lock her in a room. Or me.)



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