Under a canopy

The trees above us are finally getting their leaves in. I hope to free the  girls from their foraging pen, allowing them free range of the entire yard.  I feel safer under the green canopy that is starting to grow in. I have been excited about the changing of seasons this year, more so than any other year, and it has much to do with Hawk. Sitting in the yard, completely exposed, this year I not only felt my hens were in danger but that I was vulnerable as well.  I never had closer calls with witnessing the violence of nature than this past winter.

As spring approaches I have notice PeeWee and Fuzztop are not thriving like they were. They will turn four at the end of April. I can remember clear as a bell what they looked like when I first laid eyes on them. I do fear finding their little, white, feathered bodies one morning and having to go through that all over again. The fact that Hawk picked PeeWee has me thinking she will go first. I have separated them from the younger set in the afternoon and feed them both extra special treats to fatten them up a bit. They have always been tiny though. They get vitamins and a natural de-wormer but genetics will determine their lifespan. I have that old fashioned notion that plump is just healthier than...well, not plump. Because they are on the thin side they have no problems with the heat in the summer or bumble foot and their vents have always been clean. They are fine, I just worry.

One thing the girls have shown me is just how much I worry. It is so unattractive. This constant chatter in my head of all the things that could possibly go wrong resulting in the demise of their earthly existence is so annoying.  The real fear though is pain. The pain I will feel finding the tiny object of my affection lifeless and gone. When I decided to raise chickens I actually said, "And if  a few die, that's okay because they are livestock and they can be hard to raise but it's survival of the fittest so...". How could I not know myself.  I am the girl who at ten had a pet ladybug for a week or two and cried when she escaped. My mother humored me for as long as she could helping me look for her all over the house before just becoming frustrated and saying,"What is wrong with you?! It is just a bug." She wasn't though, every night before bed I would observe her and knew the exact design of the black spots on her back and would draw her in the margins when I was at school with her  black spots exactly where they were.

So I am anxious for spring and the trees coming back and letting the girls roam around as they please because I have to learn to let go, to accept things... et cetera, et cetera.  These chickens and Hawk and the seasons all work to bring out my weaknesses and now I feel forced to reckon with what I like to keep well hidden under my own personal, intangible canopy of sorts.

PeeWee and Fuzztop will get their birthday cake in April, a small, Easy Bake Oven sized cornbread cake, to celebrate their fourth year on earth. Then we'll go on from there. This morning those two came down the "stairs" from their nest to greet me.  They stretched, had a drink of water then started to have breakfast. Watching them do that just starts my day off so well.  All they know is now and I should too.