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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.

Navigating Relationships Through Chicken Keeping

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What a whirlwind of a week it has been! Welcome back. There’s been a lot going on at Itsnotta farm … fall is approaching and the weather is finally getting a little cooler! We had some rain as well… a much needed thing after a very dry season which included a complete fire ban in the surrounding area, as well as a few friends who lost water in shallow wells. We’ve been clearing brush, cutting down tree branches and my arbor is up and still standing! I’ve been researching baby goats, but that’s still not on the horizon… need some fence building done, apparently. The pond experts came in today and got my waterfall going again… but the rain made the pool green, so there’s that.

However, the most significant change has been with the beloved chickens. Tragedy has struck again and I am saddened to report that two more of my new babies have been taken by a predator without a trace. I am so upset. I’ve gone from 5 new babies to 2 left. I have four of my original flock left, so that leaves me with only six girls. I understand that allowing the hens to free range means I have to accept this fate, on occasion. Yet, it’s still sad.

Hanging out with the chickens is where I wanna be this week. As you all know, they’ve been the driving force behind our move, our new adventures and Itsnotta farm. And my observations have created my muse for this week. So, the two sets of hens are now a year apart. The new breed is absolutely beautiful, but a little shyer than my original girls. And pecking order is definitely a real thing.

Finally: “apart but together”

Let me paint the picture for you. Four, older, more established girls, spoiled rotten by their crazy chicken momma, get infiltrated by five teenagers. The less experienced teens are attacked, traumatized and are reduced to two. The remaining two need to rely on each other to slowly make friends with the older ladies. And slowly, oh so slowly, it’s happening. They are forced to be locked up together at night, but the older girls are “making room”. There is still a cue for treats in the morning, but the younger two are starting to quickly get close enough for fast leftovers. Instead of being fields apart, the flock is “apart” — but together. I really am hoping this trend continues and that one day I will have a cohesive flock. Chicken keepers call this “integration”. And it seems to take forever. A group is obviously safer, so that’s the goal!

So, my friends, what do we learn from this? Why do I bore you with all my chicken drama? Well, it had me thinking about how similar we are, as humans. We were created to be a flock. God designed us to be together. Together for safety. Together to learn. Together to rest. Together to work as a team. Yes, there will be leaders and followers, but once the integration dust settles, there should be an ebb and flow to the scratch, peck and eat bugs, then occasionally lay an egg, routine.

The hubby and I have been in the middle of relationship observation overload these past few weeks. We’ve watched our older kids go off independently and merge with others (and allthe teenage angst that goes with it!) We’ve gotten together with new friends, and worked on building fresh relationships, and spent time with old friends who we value and love because we already “get each other”. We’ve seen new life come and the learning curve it creates to “add to the flock” (Hurray for babies!). We’ve also watched as relationships crumble and long term marriages seem to falter. We’ve had the hard discussions with older folk who are seeing the end of their time on earth come far to fast. From the outside looking in, it’s just like watching my little flock, and it’s crazy.

Our Sunday services have recently reminded me that God designed us to be in relationships. He did not want us to be alone to be attacked by predators. He designed us to have safety in numbers. You must learn from one another. We all must do some watching, some waiting, some learning through observation and patience, and then we can fly in and clean up the leftover treats that God gives us on the daily because He loves us.

As usual, perhaps these posts are not eloquent, nor full of deep theology or revelation, but a simple reminder of the way God intends us to be. I’m reminded all the time through simple things like baby chickens, of God things, and I am simply sharing them with you. Thanks for following along on my journey. We’ll catch up over a cuppa coffee again next week! Be blessed.

The Role of a Rooster in your Flock: Introducing “Morris”

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Welcome back! If you’ve been following mittonmusings for any length of time, you’ll know that a flock of chickens have been on the want list for a very long time. It sparked a three year long search for the perfect country farmhouse and an uprooting of my entire family to move away from everything we knew and held dear. Which seems a little crazy now that I see it in black and white… but here we are! I planned, prepped and did my research. I sought out what breeds of chicks would be friendly, cold tolerant and easy for a beginner. I asked questions and read lots. I went through a reputable source and ordered six day olds… three of each kind. (In case you care to know, I have Americanas and Lavender Orpingtons). I discovered the order list was a little late, but in May of this year, the little bundles of fluff moved in.

My family tolerated the chicks and their crazy mom as they ran through the living room… and made a complete mess of my beautiful farmhouse. Still, mom was happy, and the dream was a reality, so what could they say? Eventually, the babies finally moved out and #itsnottafarm got a bit more “farm like”. And then tragedy struck.

“Mort” my dumbest (but most favourite) chicken got “lost”. Literally, lost. She more than likely wandered off into the woods and couldn’t make her way back. We saw no evidence of predators, so I would like to think she is happy somewhere… So we were down to five. And then: “Mavis” became “Morris”. Yup, I got a rooster. Which is not a surprise if you buy a “backyard mix”… it happens more than 50% of the time… but I had done my research, and planned remember? My chicks were supposed to be 98% guaranteed female. Laying hens. Alas, life always has other plans, eh? I denied it when she grew a bit bigger. I denied it when a friend commented. I denied it when her comb grew. I could deny it no longer when the crow came. We are now down to four girls and a very handsome, but definitely male, rooster. We now have “Morris.”

We now have a “Morris”

Is it so bad to have a rooster? No, not really. The rooster’s role in a flock is protector. A role “Morris” is taking on well. It’s actually kind of fun watching him call to his ladies … especially if one is falling behind. He’s a big boy, so can’t hop the fence as well as the hens… and he often gets stuck at the back of the pack. We are learning to “tame” him (although he is fairly friendly) as he is beginning to strut his stuff and challenge the hubby and the dog. I bring him treats so he likes me most of the time. He’s screaming in protest in the background as I type this! Oh brother… they are out on my porch… he’s calling them back… See? Welcome to my crazy life dream!

So, as we adjust to life on the “farm” now with a rather loud and unexpected rooster, I hope you find your own protector. I hope that God gives you someone who “has your back”. Who calls you back to Him when you stray a little too far. I hope there is one who may have been unexpected in your life, but is a vital part of it. I know God is good. He gives us what we need – when we need it most. It’s not always what we want… but He makes it all work out. There will be casualties. No one is perfect. Even if they are in authority and have a very important role in leadership. We will lose our friends sometimes. We will be challenged, and have to act on the defensive on occasion. I heard a tidbit of farm history, that weather vanes on top of barn roofs depicted roosters to remind us to be bold in our faith… and to not be like Peter who denied Christ three times before the crowing of the morning rooster. (By the way…they crow all day… and at any time of day…so yeah…there’s that).

“Morris” and his Ladies

I hope a “Morris” comes into your little world to bring you a bit of the unexpected. To keep you on your toes. To be bold and tough and a good protector. Yet, a beautiful soul who has every good intention to be wise and wary. A father figure, perhaps. Let this be your reminder to muse on them a little today – and be thankful for their role in your flock. Blessings, my beloveds.