Category Archives: Itsnotta farm

Emotional Lessons on Faith from Chicken Keeping

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Another beautiful Tuesday here in sunny Ontario, Canada, and another thought for you from my little piece of the Internet. We’ve just celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving, and all the fall activities and sights and sounds are upon us. They say the colours are a bit muted this year, so I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m not so sure. Around here, the golden fields are rich in the sunlight, and I am reminded to be thankful. There’s lots of fall thanksgiving, gratitude, and blessings posts here at mittonmusings.com, so if you’re looking for one of those, do a simple search and I am sure it’ll pop up for you. This week, however, was not one of those gratitude musings… well at least not in the beginning. I had a bit of an emotional roller coaster of a night the other night, so I’ll share:

As you all know, the chickens here are the main attraction. They are the reason I dragged my family to the sticks to make a living. You’ll also know that we’ve lost a few to predators. I think the risk is worth it, so I continue to free range my girlies. It’s fun to watch them chase the bugs (and frogs and mice…). It brings me joy. However, the last time we were away we lost three to (what we suspect is) a coyote. Three is pretty devastating when you have a small flock, so a few weeks back we went about replacing those hens. Now, I am new to this chicken tending thing and have only ever raised day old chicks. Only this close to winter, chicks are harder to find and keep. The big companies don’t sell them and they will go outside too close to colder temperatures, so “teenager” chickens were the ticket. “Pullets” in the chicken keeping world. So, several weeks ago we brought home three new girls (hopefully girls!).

Travelling home with three new teenagers who are all wet because they dumped their water!

Then came the process of quarantining, integrating with the existing flock (the pecking order is a real thing!) and getting them to trust me and bond and all that good stuff. The bonding is a little harder with pullets because they are already fully feathered and didn’t spend any time with me in the house. They were able to go straight outside. Which means they don’t know my voice yet. They haven’t fully learned all the routines yet. They don’t trust me yet. Which is where my story begins.

A few nights ago I went out to put everyone to bed. The older girls were safely tucked up on the roosts already. The nights are getting darker earlier and I missed “dusk”. It was already dark… and the new girls were no where to be found. The hubby and I checked every bush and brush. I called and climbed. The new girls have been wandering a bit farther and farther from their coop as they gain confidence … but they did not recognize my voice.

I second guessed my whereabouts. I was home all night. Did I hear anything? I didn’t see anything. Did the dog bark unusually during the evening? I should have gone out before dark. I should have spent more time with them before letting them free range. I don’t deserve pets. I’m not worthy of animals, I’m no farmer. I dragged the whole family here for nothing… And the emotional spiral down begins. Then the tears. The hubby says “They are just stupid chickens” — not worth crying over. Yet, us girls go there in the middle of the night when we are upset. They don’t know me yet, and it was my fault!

My emotional breakdown was real, but unnecessary, and totally unwarranted, not only because it isn’t totally true, but because the next morning when I went out, three fluffy, buff coloured heads poked out from behind the bushes and looked at me. We had looked there. Twice. Even that morning they didn’t come running to greet me. I only noticed them after I heard the bushes rustle. Then, of course, I called and offered treats and goo goo voiced at them as prayers of thankfulness flowed and the begging of forgiveness for taking my lack of pullet training for granted. I’m such a basket case some days.

Safe and sound and learning to come when called!

In John 10, there is a strikingly similar story that Jesus tells about sheep. It was such a vivid parallel to me! It tells us that the sheep only recognize the voice of the good shepherd. They don’t recognize the voice of the thief that comes in the night. The one who comes from the back door only to prey on them with doubt. Only the voice that they trust (and recognize) to keep them safe will lead them to the rich green pastures. Or in my case, the warm and shielded chicken coop. Needless to say, I am working on my pullet bonding these days.

Are you there, my friend? Do you recognize the voice of the good shepherd? It takes time. It takes work. It requires trust to be built. You must learn the routines. Go back and read the story. It’s a good one. I’ll be back again next week with more thoughts on this faith journey and how God is showing me through crazy chicken keeping how our faith gets lived out on the daily. We’ll catch up soon.

Unfinished DIY Projects and Reflections: Another Day in the Life

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Well my lovelies… I’m sitting here on another random Tuesday, trying to come up with something to write about before putting on a pot to boil for spaghetti dinner. It’s a cool, damp day and it’s been a slow one from the start. I slept in too late. I likely spent more time on the internet than I should have. I soaked in the bath way too long and got all wrinkly. Time seems to be stuck again. The weather’s been fabulous for October and so projects keep getting dreamed up. Unfortunately, none of those projects seem to get finished. Currently, the pallets are still sitting in my driveway, and I decided to stain some outdoor furniture instead. Then, of course, it rained all morning and increased my drying time. And I forgot to clean the entire piece before I started at the back, so now will have to put off the front until everything is completely dry before I can hose it down again to wash up the front. I’m new to this staining thing, but I like it. Patience. That’s the ticket, right? True artistry takes time.

Started staining my porch bench

Luckily, I’m frugal (read cheap). So most of my inspirations have to be as well. Which, come to think of it, might not be ideal either. I think I can do it myself for cheaper, when sometimes it just pays to put the money in for a “professional”. Did you know you can paint a fabric couch? So if you buy a cheap but sturdy ugly patterned one… Anyway, here we are with another post going nowhere. There’s been a lot of moving parts on Itsnotta farm lately, and I am not sure where it’s all going to end up. Half finished projects and a pocket full of dreams?

Speaking of pockets, guess what happened to me yesterday? Collected eggs in the pocket of a sweater… and forgot them there. Which reminds me, I have to do some laundry. And there are dishes in the sink. But. Full stop. The kids are safe and well fed. I connected with a friend today who needed me. The hubby went to work at a stable job. The rains fell and watered the ground. I chased my free ranging chickens back home from the neighbouring farm field where they were taking in the bounty of the land. I smiled because I have them, and the land they roam through.

Canadian thanksgiving is coming up soon. We’ll be feasting as usual. We’ll likely complain about politics and chat about movies. We are truly, truly blessed. I’m pondering that today. Counting my many blessings. Knowing that each dream I conjure up is because I am comfortable enough not to have to worry about basic necessities. For this, I must learn to be thankful. Thankful and grateful that God has placed me here in this time and place with these people to love. So much of our world is dark and dismal. Even in abundance, there are those who are so lost.

The girls are back home, and the porch needs decorating for fall, but I am grateful.

You have heard me say it many times before, friends. Our faith journey must extend beyond our own little world. We must touch others. My projects will get done. Eventually. The dishes will be there when I am ready. We’ll find uses for the pallets. More importantly, I will love my friend. My grand baby will be prayed for. My family will know they are loved and I will be there for them in the future. No matter what the future holds. And we’ll be here for you again next week, too, my beloveds, as we travel along this journey together. So maybe this post doesn’t have a deep thought, or a significant musing. There’s no theological connection to some profound enlightenment. Maybe it’s just me going through the moments of a seemingly meaningless day and discovering there is meaning in it all. Yes, if you stop for a minute and look at the much bigger picture, it all has some meaning. It has to. Therefore, I’ll be back again next time, and invite you along, because, maybe you’re like me and just trying to juggle it all with a bit of dreaming on the side.

Transforming Pallets: An Independent Woman’s DIY Adventure

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Don’t fear, my beloveds! I’m baaaack! I guess I have been on a little sabbatical. Well, at least I haven’t been posting. Not to worry, I’m back. I have no excuses for not writing, really. There’s been no crisis, just laziness on my part. There’s been stuff happening and lots of content, it just didn’t get put out here on the internet. But… it’s Tuesday, and here I am. So let’s get into it shall we?

Wanna hear about my latest project? I’m afraid I have grandiose ideas way too often, but little results. My mother used to say I had champagne ideas but beer budget. Very true. Otherwise, I’d be stinking rich by now, right? Anyway, I went down the rabbit hole of Youtube and Facebook marketplace and ended up with about 25 pallets sitting on my driveway. And pallets are free. (Beer budget, remember?) The first batch the hubby picked up. I miss our van. The SUV just doesn’t have the capacity to fill my grandiose ideas.

The latest project…

The second batch, however, I picked up all on my own from a local guy. A story in itself. The older folk were about 10km or so away. He’d worked for a plant and had several pallets stored in his backyard, but they were getting ready to move and needed to downsize. His yard fueled my fire. A cute picket fence and a rustic looking tool shed all built by pallets. He was quite helpful and pulled the collection out onto the front yard. First challenge: backing up into his narrow driveway without going into the ditches on either side and making a fool of myself. We loaded the first batch. I can fit about 5 or so full size pallets in the trunk with the back seats down. However, my gas tank is now on low fuel. I’ll be back, but I must get gas… about 45 minutes round trip.

Several minutes later, and a full tank of gas, I was maneuvering my way back down the narrow drive. Load two. I’m hauling pallets now! Load three is now securely in my SUV, a hand shake and a wave, and I’m off with a trunk full of dreams and done my good deed by helping an elderly couple clean up their yard. One splinter later, I was musing at my day.

I’d like to think I am pretty independent. The hubby was away and I arranged all of this by myself. Strong, independent woman who can haul wood, pump her own gas and wield a hammer! Truth be told, I do get a little anxious… deals are not always safe for a single woman hauling pallets from a back alley. And in light of today’s world, I in no means want to get into gender roles, violence against women, risks of being in public spaces or any other hot topics so present in our lives right now. Yet, it did have me thinking.

I’m saddened that my grandchildren will have to go on public transit with eyes in the back of their heads. They’ll have to go to school subjected to rules put in place simply to keep them safe. Not only safe, but alive! Forget the backyard scraps, there will be cyber bullying, anxiety meds, reconciliation circles, mass shootings, bombings, and the list goes on. How was it that in Noah’s day the world was so evil that God decided even He couldn’t stand it, and wiped it out in a mass flood? Can you imagine? A world so evil, only one lone family was worth saving. Pretty surreal.

We need to pray for our cities, our countries, our world. We need to pray for the next generation. We need to love on others so hard that they can’t help but see Jesus in our hearts. And it’s not easy. There are some very unlovable people out there. Confused, hurting, misguided, unlovable people who fight back. I want to see us get back to where every Facebook Marketplace meeting ends with a handshake and a “thanks”.

About a quarter of the way through… and still working on making the world a better place!

As to the pallets? Well, like most of my projects, we’re about half way through them. (Have you ever dismantled a pallet? It’s hard work!) It has required a strong hand of the middle kid to assist in prying rusty nails from aged boards. Yet, perhaps that’s the point. Intergenerational work required to get the job done. I guess I can say I am doing my part. What have you been doing to deal with our sad world these days? One trunk load at a time, I guess. And a few prayers along the way. See you soon, friends.