THANKFUL FRIDAY
Cindy Maddera
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Every morning, I walk into the backyard while carrying a cup of coffee and I open the door to the chicken pen. Then, as I turn and start to walk back to the house, all four of the chickens follow me to the center of the yard where they start to peck and scratch. If I sit out there with them for a brief moment, Marguerite will peck her way to me, stand just out of reach and tilt her head at me while murmuring a song. They spend the whole day roaming the back yard or laying in the shade. There is a pile of wood scraps and pallets near the fire pit and sometimes you can look out the kitchen window and see Foghorn standing on top of the pile, surveying the land. There is one particularly good dirt spot in the yard and all four of them will take a turn rolling around in it. At night, just before I head off to bed, I go out to the pen to shut the door. I always take a moment to lift the hatch on the coop and count the number of chickens. One, two, three, four. All four present and accounted for, I close the pen and then put myself to bed.
I knew nothing about raising chickens. I just knew that I wanted some backyard chickens. I had a romantic vision of a backyard farm with chickens roaming free and walking up to me for an occasional cuddle. The reality was a bit different. That was mostly our own fault. The old chicken coop forced us to work harder to care for the chickens; not smarter. The chickens turned out to be ambivalent to our love. There were discussions about what would happen when they all moved on to chicken heaven. The result of that discussion leaned towards not getting more chickens. We did it. We raised some chickens. Now let’s move on to something new. After building the new pen, Michael and I both agree that there will be chickens roaming the backyard for many years. We learned a lot with this first group. The new pen makes chicken care so much easier and the chickens are now living their best chicken lives.
Michael and I met seven years ago in June. After Micheal’s hickup, he threw himself into things (maybe unintentionally) that would make me happy, like buying a scooter. Then he built the chicken coop. He didn’t build it because I had asked him too. He built it because he knew that I wanted chickens. Michael did not know any more than I did about raising chickens, but he dived into learning about chicken husbandry. The chickens are probably more his than mine, though he can never remember their names or who’s who. Our relationship is like the chickens. A lot of times we worked harder for it than smarter. We learned a lot about how to communicate with each other. We had to expand and stretch ourselves to encompass this new relationship. A relationship that is different from previous ones we both had. But I think we have both settled in. I mean, it’s not perfect. There’s no such thing and at times I still find myself working harder, not smarter, but we have found a rhythm. Michael mentioned a few weeks ago that this is the longest relationship he’s ever been in.
So I guess that means we’re doing something right and that we are also living our best chicken lives.