Y’all…. I HAVE CHICKENS.
Which no doubt comes as a complete and utter shock to those of you who have been following my blog for any length of time, on account of how you’ve always known me as a hip and sophisticated person.
Yep, I DO still live in the city, mere blocks from downtown.
But I have also gone country, back to my roots, at least a little, with my raised organic garden beds and… CHICKENS.
In case you don’t know, they’re THE best pets ever, and I am totally the Chicken Whisperer. Like, I walk out into the backyard, and they come running as fast as their little T-Rex bodies can waddle, STRAIGHT TO ME, because I am their best friend.
They’re pretty much my best friends. We’re best friends. That’s all.
I started with just two sweet, happy, quiet little hens, and a cute little coop I ordered through the mail that looked adorable nestled in there behind my garden beds, and we were doing JUST FINE for over a year, as they roamed around in the yard, quietly, happily, scratching and pecking and living their best lives. And then one of my two girls died one day out of the blue for reasons I still haven’t figured out because though I am the Chicken Whisperer, I am still, apparently, a NOVICE.
Like, cried actual tears, over an actual BIRD.
Who even am I anymore?
I’m so sorry, Moonstar. I didn’t know.
And somehow, my two chickens that became one chicken (RIP, Moonstar*) then became FOUR chickens (…and then five chickens, ahem) because I learned that chickens are flock animals, and my remaining Ruby* Girl would suffer extreme emotional distress were she to be left as a flock of one in my backyard.
*Susie named the chickens, FYI.
So, naturally, more chickens were the answer.
Side note: more chickens are ALWAYS the answer. Whatever the question, chickens are the answer.
I cannot, after all, bear my sweet Ruby Girl suffering extreme emotional distress, so she had to have some sister friends.
But anyhoo, a year of being a Chicken Whisper combined with the traumatic experience of placing my sweet Moonstar into the arms of Jesus MUCH, MUCH too soon has resulted in me becoming slightly more knowledgeable about all things chicken.
I’ve been reading. I’ve been chatting with my East Texas Chicken group pals. Is there a president of the East Texas Chicken group, and if so, how do you run for office? Asking for a friend.
I’ve learned a few things, is all I’m saying.
Like, for instance, that when a baby chicken is ready to hatch, and slowly pecking its way out of the shell, you can KILL the baby chicken if you try to help it get out of the shell too soon by breaking the shell away FOR them.
Did you know this?
It looks like such a struggle, watching those tiny things struggle and labor to break their way free from the shell. I don’t have baby chicks, nor do I have the capability to hatch any eggs (*yet… ‘going country’ is a process), but I see videos.
It’s a slow, slow, laborious struggle for the tiny baby birds.
But if you don’t let them struggle their way out of the shell ON THEIR OWN, their little necks will be too weak to hold their heads up on the outside world, and they’ll die.
I thought of this this morning as I was praying for someone who is struggling.
I actually have a couple of people close to me who are struggling with something difficult, and I WOULD LOVE FOR GOD TO RESCUE THEM FROM THE STRUGGLE.
It’s so hard to watch someone you care about going through tough times, letting them struggle their way out of it, figuring it out for themselves, when all you can do is pray and wait.
There’s a reason they have to struggle, God told me.
If they’re rescued from it too soon, they won’t be strong enough to handle the REST of what’s coming.
The struggle is a necessary part of the journey.
The struggle forces all of us to strengthen our feeble arms.
The struggle makes us a little more mature and complete.
As much as I’d love to rescue my sweet little flock (see what I did there?) from the struggles they’re in, MORE than I want their lives to be struggle-free, I want them to be mature and complete with good, strong arms.
I mean, the world is too full of limp, useless chickens who are too weak to hold up their own heads, already.
See? That’s some wisdom that can ONLY COME FROM CHICKENS.
I think I proved my point.
Chickens are the answer, whatever the question.