The other night I found myself wondering around the woods with a flashlight searching. For what you might ask? Some things tangible and somethings not quite reachable. Ultimately what brought me out from my cozy spot in front of the fire place, was the concern over the final chicken count in the coop. See, now we are back up to 11 chickens. We recently acquired 10 new ones, and for the most part they have been given a very limited area to explore. This, supposedly, helps them grow attached to their roost and nest, so they will come back at night. It just so happens though, that several of them managed to escape during the day. I saw this as I was playing with the boys. I watched them explore tentatively for a while, before I also noticed our resident hawk was also watching his dinner wonder into the woods.
So, I did what any good chicken owner would do. I grabbed some scratch, put it in a can, and shook it. They came running, I put them back in the coop. Job done. Or so I thought.
See, counting to 11 should not be that hard. But we have one chicken that is a hold over from the previous flock. While she spend almost a year as an only chicken, she now has 10 roommates, and let's just say she is not so thrilled about it. We have (now had) one really big roust that was big enough for all the birds. But, when any of the new birds come near it she goes on a hen pecking tissy. Needless to say, counting moving birds that are viciously being pecked is not as easy as one might think.
I took the boys to dinner, not thinking anything of the chickens, until I went to turn on their heat lamp and saw them all resting on their newly built roost (thanks John for keeping peace in the hen house.) The only problem is there were only 10. Counted again. Yup one was missing.
Logically this lead us to begin our search for either a bird in a tree or feathers. There is something about searching for a lost animal on a cold night that makes you think about the dreams, troubles, wishes, relationships in your life in a different way. At the moment of searching I could not help but feel as though I had let the bird down. I am her human, just like I am in charge of my boys (all three of them), or of my students, or of the finances. It began to feel all to overwhelming of a task. I had seen the predator. It was there. I did what I should have done, but not good enough.
I feel the same in life. I am with my boys, but in an exhausted warn out state. I make just enough to keep our heads above water, I teach my students just enough, but constantly feel rushed wishing I could give them the depth they so crave. Then there is the whole being married thing. Oh, I need to find time and love and energy for him too? Is it good enough to just save 10/11ths of the birds? It sure didn't feel like that was an OK option going to bed that night. After looking for an hour I did not find the bird, but I also did not find the carnage either. One thing I do know (please don't ask how) is that chickens have a lot a feathers. They do not just disappear.
The next morning I awoke anxious to get out in the daylight and just find out what happened. If I found feathers, I would at least know. But, when I made my way out towards the coop, low and behold she had flown back into the fenced in area and was squawking away at her flock inside the coop. She had made it safely through the night, and managed to get back to the best place she could have been all on her own.
What is the moral? For me it is that life is going to take care of itself. Yes, a lot of people depend on me, and they deserve the best I have got. Fortunately we had a safe place for her to go and she made it there unharmed. I hope the same will hold true for all of the other things in my little world.
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