What I Learned From a Chicken

What I Learned From a Chicken

In the mid 70’s in Southern California, it was the current craze for people to leave the bustling city and move out into the country.  Communities were carefully planned with ½ acre lots, with zoning for animals and farming for these ex-pats of city life.

We were one of them.  I was lucky enough to find a rental house in one of these communities and set to task to create a mini-farm. My vision was to become totally independent from buying food at the grocery store, to live as the pioneers had lived, to become totally self-sustaining.

Our first step in this new adventure was to get animals. I mean, what would a farm be without the animals?  So, I decided to start small. Chickens…and visions of farm fresh eggs and chicken stew motivated me over the next few weeks.

We built chicken houses and fenced in an area for the chickens to roam around. But these weren’t just ordinary chicken houses. We built them to look like condo’s . Six mini condo’s lined up with ramps going into each section. Then I painted a sign across the structure saying; “Ye old Hen House.”  It was painted white with blue trim. When it was finished, I stood back admiring the aesthetic look and the cleverness of the slanted roofs that opened up for easy access. I was quite proud of myself.   Now we were ready to buy the chickens.

With a quick trip to the local roadside feed store, we purchased six plump hens and two roosters. We also bought straw for the hen houses, chicken feed and oyster shell mix, two automatic feeders and two water feeders.

My two kids, Tracy and Andy, had their first experience handling chickens as we carried them into the chicken pen and watched them getting acquainted with their new home. The kids also got acquainted with the word “chores” as I told them that their job was to make sure the chickens were fed and watered.

Spring was the perfect time to buy chickens, as it was breeding time. It wasn’t long before all six hens were sitting on a full nest of eggs. We were all waiting anxiously for the eggs to hatch.  In a few weeks, we had baby chicks running around.  I counted them one morning and began to realize that we had too many chicks. If all of them survived, our little chicken coop would have to be expanded.

 Five of the hens were new mommies, but the sixth one somehow didn’t produce any babies. Her eggs lay lifeless and began to smell.  I felt sorry for the poor thing, wondering if somehow the other hens were mocking her, or that she felt shame for her failure.  We took the rotten eggs out of her nest when she wasn’t looking.  I told the kids to start collecting all the eggs each morning and night. It was time for us to start enjoying fresh eggs at our breakfast table.  

It became quite evident the following morning, that one motherless hen wasn’t about to give up on having children. Each time Andy or Tracy would go into her house, she became loud and violent, attacking anyone coming near her nest. After a few attempts of my own, I had to wear leather gloves to retrieve her eggs.

I admired her tenacity and her determination. Over the next few days she tried to hide her eggs in other parts of the hen house. It became a sort of game for the kids to find her hiding places.

 I knew it was crazy to apply human emotion to the situation, but I watched her as she now stood alone in the yard while the other hens and their chicks happily played about. She had also stopped eating. It was obvious that depression had set in heavily in her heart…..then she disappeared.

 One morning we got up and discovered her missing.  It haunted me. I thought of that little hen often and wondered, should we have just let her keep her eggs?

But new additions to our little farm were coming and we had to prepare a solid fence for their arrival. We purchased a litter of six pigs.

 The pig pen was built between the chicken coop and the metal shed which we used to store the feed. Old pallets donated from a warehouse created a strong fence for the baby pigs. We worked on this project for over a week before finally getting the pigs and bringing them to their new pen.

We were all so excited about these cute little guys, the kids climbed into the pen  and played with them, giving them each a name.  I warned them not to get too attached, because one day they would become bacon and ham.

Several weeks had gone by and we were now into a daily routine of feeding and watering the animals. We learned quickly that there was no sleeping in, or the animals would begin to loudly complain, snorting or clucking their discontent.

It was early in the morning when my daughter ran into the house excited. “Mom!” she said breathlessly “That chicken is back and she’s got babies!”  We both ran out to the yard, Tracy pulling me along.  I couldn’t believe my eyes. The proud mommy was strutting around in front of the metal shed with five baby chicks around her!   I had never seen a chicken so protective of her little babies and I swear she was going to each one and clucking at us, as if to say “This one is Joey and this one is is Sara. And if a chicken could smile, that one was beaming. She was triumphant!

“Momma. Where has she been all this time?” Tracy asked. “Good question honey.” I said. “And I am sure if you watch her closely, she will take her chicks back to the nest and we will find out.”   It wasn’t long before we discovered that the hen had hidden underneath the metal shed. It was amazing to me.  All the time we were building the pig pen, pounding nails and spending hours right next to that shed, she stubbornly remained on her nest hidden just a few feet away from us, the thieves that stole her eggs…us humans.  

“She never gave up, did she?” Tracy said, with a smile. “I think she is a very smart chicken!”

“Yes, she is, and a very happy one now!” 

We were all happy as we shared the good news with friends that evening. They all agreed that it was an extraordinary chicken.

Something woke me in the dark hours of the following morning. It was a sound that I had never heard before. It was a haunting, sad cry, like a wailing, coming from the farm yard.  I slipped on my robe and grabbed a flashlight then made my way out into the yard in the direction of that terrible sound. 

 

What I saw was in the light of my flashlight took my breath away. It was the momma hen.  She stood on the edge of our water trough, crying out in that loud mournful sound.  There inside the trough was three of her chicks, drowned, floating in the cold water.  Tears formed in my eyes as I stood above the scene.  “I’m so sorry, momma.” I said softly, reaching down, petting her head. “You are such a good mother.”   Somehow that seemed to comfort her and she stopped crying.  There was no way that I was going to leave and break this moment of bonding, or to leave her alone in the dark, so I sat down on the ground and quietly petted her until the morning sun began to rise. For that moment in time, we mourned together, that chicken and I.   Then suddenly she got up, shook herself,  gathered her two remaining chicks together and shuffled back under the shed. 

 I am sure I looked rather silly sitting there in the dirt, in my robe, all alone, but I was lost in the moment.  I watched the sun come up in the soft glow that announces a new beginning and I felt…renewed…hopeful…and a little sad.  I reached into the water and gathered the three dead chicks in my hands. No sense in leaving them there for my children to see when they woke up.  I dug a hole in the corner of the yard and buried them. As I walked back toward our house, the rooster crowed, I heard the sounds of my children waking up as the new day began.  

 That chicken taught me the most important lessons in my life. First, she showed me that animals DO have human emotions and that they were “thinking” creatures. I have never forgotten that.  Secondly, she showed me that when faced with problems bigger than we are, keep trying. Never give up!  You many suffer some losses, but in the end, you are better off than you were.

Over the years there were many times when I wanted to give up, to just curl up and die. But then I thought of that chicken and I would say to myself, if a chicken can do it, why can’t I?