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| My Happy camper |
After several teasers of springtime, the
scent of sparkling dew on grass greets me. Peepers sing in the marsh down the
road.
The womb of
morning blooms daffodils before my little camper named Happy. And why wouldn’t
she be, surrounded by all this beauty?
Yes, this glory is
well worth the wait—five months plodding downhill in snow and uphill again with
six warm eggs in my pocket. Sometimes five. This happens when hens age.
These days with sky-high
food prices, the recipients of my egg surplus are doubly grateful for their
brown-shelled gifts. I wonder why more homeowners don’t keep layers. I’ve found
the intangible benefits plentiful.
I kick open the
henhouse door (it sticks at the bottom). “Good morning, girls!” I say.
The Isa Browns
gather on the other side of the interior screened door, squawk until I unlock
and swing the door open and their chute. They jump down into their pen, stretch
their legs and peck.
I gather eggs,
scrape their droppings off roost poles, and refresh their straw, feed, and
water.
As diatomaceous
earth deters creeping insects, I spread the white powder on the straw of the
roosting and laying side of the house. Also, a sprinkle of powder on the pen’s ground
offers a mite treatment when the girls dust bathe.
I close the henhouse
door. “Thanks for the eggs! See you at sundown!”
The flock clusters
by the pen door, plead for me to let them out to graze on grass as green as
Ireland. If hens could drool, they’d be drooling.
I climb the hill
and determine to repair their tractor pen posthaste for safe grazing while I’m
occupied outside or inside.
Sure, there’s
start-up and repair costs with hen husbandry. But once a sound, small structure
is complete, there’s basically the feed and diatomaceous earth expense. Oh, and
grain and water feeders. Hens must have access to a fresh supply of both.
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| The magnolia by the pergola begins to bloom |
A luscious pink color
catches my eye in the awakening landscape by the pergola. The magnolia! Of
course. And the forsythia, in perfect yellow, springtime succession.
This moment
quickens the intangible benefits my wise friend Andy spoke of when he suggested
I add hens to my lifestyle. An avid deer hunter who kept dogs, horses, and
hens, Andy once said, “I witness the seasons change when I walk to the barn in
the morning and evening. I see things I’ve overlooked before.”
Such as the Moon
and constellations rotating around Earth when I sit in the swing atop the hill
after sundown.
In this season of
my life where it is my privilege to behold the first fruits of spring, I recall
my teenage years with four sisters and parents in a small house.
Dear Reader, come the
first warm evening, I’d lay on the lawn in the backyard, my cocker spaniel
Sweetie as my pillow, and stargaze.
Oh, blessed
silence and breath. There’s no price tag for the many benefits of caring for a
flock of hens.
