Thoughts On Being Chicken

We have chickens.  Maybe they have us -  that could be debatable.  Whatever the case, I am mobbed with them whenever I go outside these days. And I always subconsciously hear Karen Carpenter softly singing  "Why do birds suddenly appear . . . ?"  I know the answer to that one -  FOOD!

They stay cooped up most of the year as we don't particularly want them eating Norman's berries or the fresh vegetables we love most of the year. During the winter months though, we let them out.  At first they are hesitant, but slowly venture further from their normal domain.  They eat bugs, slugs, seeds and anything else they can scrape or catch.  And chicken feed.  Lots of chicken feed.  The better they're fed, the better they bless us with eggs.  I sometimes joke to my husband that those bright orange yolks he loves are probably recycled palmetto bugs.  If you don't know what a palmetto bug is, it's like a monster cockroach that feeds off decaying wood and leaves.  They function sort of like an above ground earthworm but are a lot grosser.

The black copper hen blessed us with chicks Jan 1.  It was a nice way to start the new year.  We knew from previous experience that chicks are particularly vulnerable as many wild critters are hungry in the wintertime.  We've known of coyotes, hawks, bobcats, coons, and possums all  to venture up here on the hill in hopes of feasting on foul.  These chicks were two or three days old when I heard some hawks screeching in the tops of a pecan tree making plans to swoop down.  They flew when I hurled some choice words their way.  I'm sure they had no idea what I was saying, but I like to think they knew it was for them as they left in a hurry and we've not seen them since. 

Regardless, baby chicks need to eat, and regular laying pellets aren't exactly formulated for them.  So I trucked down to the feed store and got some chick feed - it's small with a bit of medication to protect them from diseases.  I fixed a real nice setup on one side of the barn for them - it had plenty of food, water and shelter and momma hen and babies were all happy in there till the horses smelled the feed.  I came out one morning to find them loose and their nice little home broken into by a big nosed horse who was too greedy for anyone's good.

It left me with a dilemma:.  With open feeding, that is, me throwing food for all the chickens, how was I supposed to feed the babies without the big chickens getting their food?  It took some work, but I did it.  And it was simple.  I earned their trust.

Talk about a process. Chickens are by nature, well, chickens.  They thrive on calm and run in fear from almost everything. I had to learn to move slowly and not scare the daylights out of them, something I did a lot  as I really enjoy hurling chunks of wood at big mean roosters. Momma Hen knew instinctively knew what food  the babies needed and while she never particularly cared for the stick I held to push the other chickens away from them, she did figure out that it wasn't for them. Now days I put the chick feed behind the wheel of the riding mower and the babies eat just a few inches away from me.  They're not scared.  Every once in a while one of the other hens or roosters want to take over their feeding spot, but I'm there and they don't try much anymore. Momma Hen eats with the big chickens now, and the babies, maybe a yard from her, eat in safety and play on the underside of the mower till she calls them.  She'll find a quiet spot, gently cluck and they'll run and scurry under her wings.  Everybody's full, everyone is happy.

It's crossed my mind several times that I'm a lot like those chickens.  I'm small, weak, and vulnerable to a lot of predators, mostly my own failures and weaknesses.  And I've got Someone who cares for me a lot more than I care for those chickens.  But do I trust Him enough not to go flying and squawking away every time He shows his might and power or some new threat screeches from the top of a tree?  I've had to admit at this stage of life that I face many fears that I didn't know existed when I was younger.  And I confess that I sometimes respond by running away rather than running to my Savior.

So yeah, I'm chicken.  I just desire to be like the ones who recognize the Parent's voice and run to safety, not like the fearful ones who run from everything and get slaughtered.

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together , even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!  Matthew 23:37