Here are some pictures of my chicks on the day they arrived at Kirkhaven. They travelled from Missouri to my East Tennessee farm via the United States Postal Service. I drove to our local branch office to pick them up. I started laughing the minute I walked through the post office doors and heard them chirping. It just seemed like such a quirky thing to do . . . pick up my package of live chicks at the post office.
I kept my tiny chicks in a homemade brooder in my basement. We suspended a heat lamp from the upper bar of the weight-lifting set and used extra wood pieces as baffles on the lid to control the temperature inside the brooder. Our original plan was to keep them in the barn, but my kind husband graciously moved the chicks into our basement when I worried about keeping them warm enough during the chilly, early-spring nights. We built the brooder from poplar boards that were milled from trees right here on our property. We have huge stacks of rough hewn poplar, red oak, white oak, hickory, and cherry in our western meadow and were delighted to find a good use for some of the dried boards.
We are still quite a few weeks away from having any lovely, brown eggs, and our rooster hasn’t yet learned to crow. But the Kirkhaven chickens are now settled nicely into their new chicken coop and fenced chicken run. Fourteen soon-to-be laying hens and one adolescent rooster. We built their new abode inside two of our existing barn bays using the same rough-hewn Kirkhaven lumber that we used in building the brooder. They only have one roost installed low to the ground and we haven’t constructed the nesting boxes yet, but my Kirkhaven chickens seem to really appreciate their cozy little home.
Here’s our fancy door lock at the chicken run entrance. . .
Here’s the human’s door into the coop . . .
and, of course, the “special” chicken door . . .
There is such a pleasant, quaint rhythm to caring for my chickens. Here they are greeting me as I open their coop doors in the morning.
A couple of them always keep an eye on the food and water containers when I clean them and fill them for the day. Chickens are pretty smart. They know that all kinds of yummy treats come from the hands that feed them.
Delicious snacks also fly through and crawl in through the perimeter fencing. The most alert chicken has the best chance at catching the bug. Fence watching is a favorite morning activity.
There is always lots of happy chirping and congregating and scratching.
And there is always vigilant surveillance of both the ground and the sky.
Even the sand box . . . which is a luxurious place to take a lavish dust bath or a relaxing, cool nap . . . often has a selection of insects for a breakfast buffet.
It is important to note, however, that the chicken you are NOT focusing on is the chicken you should probably watch out for. Chickens are quite curious about cameras.
Seven-week-old chickens are not as cute as they once were, and they not as beautiful as they are going to be. Some have begun to grow combs and wattles. Some are beginning to add a little squawky clucking to their sweet baby chirps. All of them have a crazy-looking combination of baby fluff, emerging pin feathers, and shiny adult plumage that . . . pretty much . . . . only a mother can love. Sometimes, in the afternoon sun, you can see the iridescent blue-green-purple sheen that makes Black Australorps so beautiful. For now, however, they are definitely awkward adolescents.
I tried to get a portrait of my handsome rooster, but he was too busy this morning. He had a lot to do. And he would rather peck the camera than pose for it. He isn’t aggressive, however . . . thank the Lord. He loves to nap against my feet when I am sitting in the chicken run on my “thinking stool.” Actually, if I am wearing my crocks (my all-time-favorite shoes that I got as an early mother’s day gift), Elijah likes to nap on top of them.
Here are some portraits of three of my pullets (a pullet is a hen that is less than a year old). These girls were quite willing to pose for the camera. Each one is maturing at her own, special rate. They are beginning to shed the last bit of their cream and white markings. Soon, even their feet and their beaks will be solid black.
And here is what a chicken looks like right before she pecks the camera . . .
It was, of course, just a curious kind of peck. Could be a bug hiding in there . . . ya never know unless ya peck!
I really don’t know why this desire to raise chickens has come to my husband and I. But I do know that I am enjoying it immensely. This evening, when I walk out to the chicken coop to close things up for the night, I will say another prayer of thanksgiving. I will see my chickens lined up like contented, sleepy soldiers on their homemade roost. And it will make me laugh . . . again.
Sometimes I walk to the chicken coop alone as the sun is setting behind our western meadow and the first stars are beginning to twinkle over my quiet rooftop. Sometimes I walk hand-in-hand with my husband, and we chat about the garden or the pond or the weather in May. It feels like God is building an ark . . . a peaceful, bountiful haven . . . here . . . on this small piece of the world the Lord has given us to steward. My heart is so grateful and so quieted. And I am filled with wonder at the prospect of what He might do next.
For me, it is the common things that bring great satisfaction and joy.
There is far too much sorrow in life.
Way too much pain.
Too often things can be sad or difficult of just plain dreary.
But simple things . . .
like watching the sun rise . . .
or watering the garden . . .
or chatting with a friend . . .
or mowing the lawn . . .
or picking berries with a child . . .
or cooking dinner . . .
or watching the chickens . . .
simple things are always there, every day.
Finding joy in them is something anyone can do . . .
anyone willing to quiet their soul,
and dare to be content
in the company
of God.
The best day . . .
for me . . .
is the day that I get to revel in the simple joys
of Life in . . .
and Life alongside . . .
and Life by
the Lord Jesus.
