Tag Archives: backyard chickens

On rest and re-cooping

In which we wait too long to do our shopping and alas, the wicked good slippahs from Maine are on back order. But the sketch was well received.

There is great value in slowing down, even if such restful slowing is thrust upon us.  Internal rewiring continues, this seismic shifting written of recently.  Illness continues to pervade the household, my hub hacking and racking in his own version of winter’s torture.   The weather gods seem to be arguing over whether to allow winter’s arrival after all.  I attempt daily forays out of doors to test my lungs with a bit of walking and jogging (I would not yet call said activity anything kin to ‘running’, but we must start somewhere. )  One day bundled in woolens, the next in shirt sleeves.  It is no wonder Christmas dinners and gatherings are somewhat sparsely attended by extended family.  Good to spend time with those healthy enough to be together.

Utilizing bits of energy hither and thither, my work space once more resembles a place ready for Deep Working and Fresh Thinking.  It is the sunniest place in the house on a rare sunny day.

The morning routine here at Chez Bogard has been exponentially simplified with the unexpected offer to re-home our lone hen, Elvyra.  I had been worrying over her, alone and cold without her sisters to snuggle up to, but had been loathe to take on new hens, thus perpetuating our chicken experience.  I have adored keeping hens.  I love their gentle chatter as they scritch in the yard for off-season insects on a warmish day.  They make me laugh with their antics. (you really should see a chicken running across the yard sometime) And of course, when possible, there is the miracle of freshly laid eggs.  But a lone hen is a depressing thing.  They are not creatures built for solitude, but rather for more of a hive-minded existence.

With Elvyra as The Last Hen Standing, we were at once in a holding pattern and a decision making position as to whether or not to get more chickens.  With the traveling we do, and some interesting and creative thoughts as to life once the kids leave college, we decided it might be best to opt out of hen-keeping for the time being, at least for a few seasons.  And so, while catching up with a dear friend at our local music session (my first in weeks – I could hardly play without coughing or losing my lip to atrophy from disuse) she offered to introduce sweet old Elvyra to her young flock of hens – solving our lone hen/what do we do now question, while simultaneously offering a much better life for one lonely chicken.

Elvyra and I got along famously, but chickens just need other chickens.

So Farmer Kate arranged for a friend of hers to pick up Elvyra who’d been stashed in a crate for transport and we commenced Operation Chicken Hand-Off.   I was nervous for her.  Chicken introductions can be tricky.  But in the end, I heard the next day that all is well.

Elvyra is keeping herself to herself, feeling a little shy in the first few days but observed to be roosting, eating and drinking.  Her new flock is giving her the space she needs and there is no pecking-order business happening from either party.

With yesterday’s incredibly unseasonably warm temperatures, the flock explores the farm and scritches for bugs and Elvyra is apparently right at home.  Remarkably simple creatures, chickens.

The cessation of our chicken adventure (which began with grassroots political change in our village to even legally have them!) leaves room for energies to be spent elsewhere.  I continue to rest with complete abandon both body and soul.  While not completely off line, a mindful avoidance of once-routine clickety behavior on my part and moderation/modification of such continues.  Anxieties are still, blissfully, at bay.  The blues may even be shifting and lifting, a bit, though I allow an engaged conversation between lightness and darkness in my heart to be ongoing.   The ebbing and flowing between sadness and joy are the warp and weft of a wide awake life.  It can be an uncomfortable state at times.

But, as Elizabeth Zimmerman has so aptly put it:

“Knit on, with confidence and hope, through all crises.”

and so I do.

Postscript: 

RIP Carrie Fisher, whom I heard passed away just a bit after posting this.  This quote from her caught my eye and speaks eloquently on why we sometimes must share what we feel inside….

“It creates community when you talk about private things and you can find other people that have the same things,” Fisher told Terry Gross. “Otherwise I felt very lonely with some of the issues that I had.”

May we all continue to nurture our inner rebels with strength and grace and humor, as she did, both on screen and off.

 

 

At One

We are down to one hen, having lost the family favorite, mischievous, curious, moxie-laden Bernadine.  Her personality here on our little acre of land will be sorely missed.  11295616_10206664562194990_1017598909952787150_n

That leaves us with Elvyra, who was kind of the extra one from the beginning.  We went to the little farm in Kentucky to get four chicks, and came home with 5.  The farmer suggesting ‘that little easter-egger over there’ might be a good one to have if we wanted a pretty flock.

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And pretty she is.

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Of all of the flock, this one has been the quiet one.  Part of the flock enough to be safe, but not overly keen on human attention or affection.  Having read that lone hens are prone to depression and rapid decline, I have been keeping a close eye on Elvyra, but so far, she seems ok.

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She preens her feathers regularly and scritches around the garden and woods for bugs and fresh spring green things.  She’s still laying daily and roosts  predictably at night.  She is eager to de-coop in the morning and join me for a cup of coffee and some treats on the back stoop.  It’s become a bit of a thing for me lately amidst this crazy time of year.

There is just something so soothing about watching a hen peck around the yard for a bit each day.

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Even if it is just the one.

 

I’m gearing up for the Taos trip here in a few weeks and so have ramped up my yoga practice and running routine to get my head on straight, to be the best I can be for my incoming students.  Spring can be a frenetic season with graduations and birthdays to be celebrated, chores to be caught up on and of course the usual day to day work to be done.  Busy.  a word I loathe, but to which I must occasionally succumb.  I am woefully behind in my own sketchbook, but have instead been at the easel a bit each week in a painting course I decided to take from Manifest Drawing Center here in town.  I am learning  a lot in this class about color and painting in oil paints, some of which I hope to apply to my own teaching out west.  It’s important to me not to rest on laurels and to always be finding new things to share in my classes.  I am keenly aware that to do this work is a great gift.  I do not take it for granted.

While we are down in numbers in the avian world, our canine sphere is fit to burst since last year.  It’s nearly a year since we took over the stewardship of my Mama-in-law’s little dog Charlie.

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She was not as little as she really should be when she first joined us.  But with some exercise and the company of other dogs, she has trimmed out a good bit and her more boisterous personality has begun to shine (read, bark).

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Charlie seems quite happy here with us and still makes regular visits back home to Mom as well, which is good for everyone.

And so, on this very average day, I must get back to work.  Attempting the task of getting ahead of myself a bit before the summer travels begin in earnest; pondering the One-ness of all things via the simple avenues of home – ‘fanimals’ and family.

Til next time….