The Broody Hen

Every once in a while, for reasons that are not entirely clear to anyone save maybe the chicken herself, one of the hens decides to become broody.  What this generally means is that, what was yesterday a normal strolling, pecking, scratching, egg laying chicken now becomes the equivalent of a chicken zombie.  They pull out the feathers on their belly to provide warmth to eggs (whether there are any or not) and then they sit.  You can attempt to pick them up and shoo them out the door and sometimes they will seem to snap out of it for a few minutes and act like a normal chicken again, but the minute you look away....they are back on the nest and sitting with that glassy-eyed stare of internal concentration.

Some pure bred chickens have had the "broodiness" bred out of them - programed only to lay eggs and then walk away from them without a second thought.  Essentially, genetically programed infanticide.  But there are other breeds, and often mixed breed chickens, that revert back to the "wild type" and will sit on a clutch of eggs. Some even have enough wits about them to actually hatch them out.  I can  honestly say that chickens are not always the brightest of animals.  The current broody hen that I have been monitoring will get off the nest typically once or twice a day and then seems to forget which nest is hers despite the fact that her nest is the only one with eggs in it.  The state of broodiness seems to be contagious as well.  When one chicken starts it, others are likely sure to follow, which is the case at the moment.  Good thing too, because as one crazy zombie bird gets off her nest the other one will often be at the point of trying to remember where her nest is and will trade nests....again, not the brightest light bulbs in the room, but they (eventually) get the job done.

When the eggs do hatch however, there is an amazing transformation that takes place in a hen. They go from being an easily frightened, squawking, fleeing chicken into a bold, ruthless, and intimidating mother hen.  I have seen hens stand up to (and make cower) pigs, cats, dogs, and even my children. They puff out every feather until they are twice their usual size and will tackle whatever evil obstacle threatens their young.   I credit the last mother hen with teaching our current pig to have a little respect for the lowly chickens in the barn - while watching the hen and chicks one day strolling around the pig pen, I was convinced that they were all about to be snacks for the pigs- pigs being the indescriminate eaters they are, but mama hen took after the pigs with feet, beak and feathers flying and sent all three pigs racing away from her small flock of babies. I have not seen them bothered since and our pig will happily allow the chickens to eat out of her bowl with her. 

This transformation in motherhood is really not all that unusual - most mother animals would likely walk through fire and fend off whatever evil beast is threatening their young...I know I would.  But what amazes me is a chicken who, the week before, couldn't remember which nest was hers, suddenly has it together enough to defend and protect these small balls of fluff that are all running in different directions.  She keeps track of them, teaches them the best scratching areas and techniques, calls them away from danger, and keeps a wary eye out for any possible marauders.  If the weather turns cold, or at night when it is time to roost, she takes them under her wing to keep them safe and warm.  I have seen human children with mothers that are nowhere near this attentive and a human's instinctual ability for child rearing has been severely diluted over the centuries as compared to that of a chicken.  I am not sure if that is a insult to humans or a compliment to chickens, but needless to say, I keep a wary eye out for the mother hens.

Weathering the Weather

It seems to me that the climate truly is changing. There is a distinct difference to be made between the weather and the climate.  Weather will change day to day - one day unseasonably hot, another day 40 inches of snow may fall, but climate is the overall averages that change slowly over time in different areas of the country and world....maybe overall it is hotter one place and colder somewhere else.  Personally, I am starting to feel like the Midwest is where the toilet bowl vortex meets the drain.

Maybe this change is some fictitious thing that my mind has dreamt up, but it seems to me that the wind used to blow more from the west, storms blew in from the west.  Now, the wind can often be found blowing from the south and sometimes the east as well.  The other day, I went out for a run around the block and was met with a northeasterly wind that threw me all off pace. The radar has as most storms swirling around from the southeast like a giant whirlpool just waiting to haul us under.   The spring used to be a time of "April showers bringing May flowers" but now it seems more like "April tornadoes bring May FEMA and Red Cross trucks".  I, like Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, gather all the news I need on the weather report....and that news isn't looking so good.

I catch myself sometimes being so angry about our complete apathy of the environment and what we are doing to it, and then at other times I find myself almost hysterically laughing because we are so far past the tipping point already that it really doesn't matter what we do ....we are screwed.  I am often reminded of Ruby in the movie Cold Mountain when she explains the current events, "They call this [weather] a cloud over the land. But they made the weather and then they stand in the rain and say 'Shit, it's raining!'"  We are all aghast that the massive destruction with the tornadoes that takes place and then placidly climb back into SUVs and fill up with gas.  The disconnect in people's mind is completely staggering.

This last weekend has been an especially wild one with regards to the weather.  I didn't sleep much last night because the radio was left on in the hopes that maybe I would hear the Severe Weather Alerts that come up just before a tornado blows you off the face of the earth.  This, of course, only works as long as there is electricity and, given that the electricity went out three times last night before the storm even hit, I also left my window open by my bed so that I might then hear when debris started flying around or the rain would splash in and wake me up.  Night time storms have really started freaking me out.

Personally, I rely most on my dog barometer.  Gina is a very good predictor of what is coming.  I know that when I let her out at night to roam the farm and check for vermin, that if she makes a bee-line for the porch and crawls under it to hide in her ever deepening den, that I had better get inside and pay attention to what is on the horizon because it isn't likely to be anything good.  But, if she strolls off into the pasture and checks out the perimeter of the farm, then the weather will likely be fine for that night.  Now... if I could just teach her to be a barometer for human intelligence with respect to the environment and climate...that might be useful.  My guess, however, would be that she would simply crawl under the porch and dig her hole even deeper.

When It Points To The East......

http://cs.astronomy.com/asycs/media/p/449739.aspx

"The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand"

~Frederic Lawrence Knowles

I never paid much attention to the moon.  All the while I grew up, I would play outside at night and stargaze late into the night, but the moon never entered into my sphere of awareness other than as a way to light my way on dark nights or as an obstruction to my sight of the Milky Way with its quiet ethereal glow.  And then, when I moved into town for college and work, it all but disappeared from my life entirely. 

You hear, now an again, about odd moon moments, the "blue moons" that happen every so often when there are more than one full moon in a month, a lunar eclipse, and periodically an exceptionally large full moon will slowly rise on the horizon with an orange glow that takes the breath away, but the day to day moon changes are completely missing from most people's awareness.

 The moon has always been used to track time.  The Native Americans have a name for every month's full moon to keep track of the time of year and signal when to harvest, when to hunt, when to fish.  We have just passed the Full Pink Moon - which is in reference to all the pink blossoms that fill the fruit trees this time of year. The almanac has all but made a science of using the moon to predict when to plant seeds to obtain the best harvest. The "moon" dates that are best to plant crops for root production or fruit production, the best time to breed animals and set eggs based on the stage of the moon.  Does it work?  I can't say that I know for sure, but I know now of the moon's pull in my own life.

Since moving to this farm, the moon as been an ever present time piece.  She moves about the sky with such precision that I have fallen under her spell.  I have come to find that I can relate better to the moon's constant change- sometimes bright and illuminating, sometimes dark and brooding - than I can to the sun's constant effervescent illumination.  Her moods wax and wane much like my own.  Every twenty-eighth day I know that I will spend the night in a state of wakefulness because of the brightness of the full moon, and in the winter when the snow is on the fields, I know that I will be able to look out and track the deer and coyote that move about under her gaze.  I have come to expect the moonrise just as some anticipate the sunrise.  I know enough now to take a small break after the sun sets during the days surrounding a full moon because, after the moon rises in the east, it will be possible to go back to work in the garden for a while under the pale glow of her illumination.  I have come to realize that it is possible to start the days very early under a waning and waxing moon because the glow from the moon augments the early light of the sunrise.  And if it is the stars that you seek, it is best to wait for the new moon to examine star charts and tell the stories of the constellations. 

For many, the moon is merely something to be studied in science and astronomy classes.  The satellite to our humble planet, a remnant from the formation of the earth, the ugly step-sister to our beautiful blue orb.  However, in true sibling nature, she keeps track of us, she marks our days and months and years.  In quiet counter point to the brash sun that religiously keeps track of the days, she marks the nights.  Even under a thick blanket of clouds, I can often tell just where the moon should be and at what stage.  Like the ocean, I feel the ebb and flow of the tides within my own blood.

This is the question that I ask my children, "Is it getting larger or smaller?"  "Closer to full or closer to dark?"  If your head can spin in astronomical circles fast enough, you can likely figure it out, but my dad taught me a saying that has never steered me wrong, although it took a little practice to figure out.  "When it points to the east - may your light increase.  When it points to the west - wane be at rest."  The "points" being the points of the  crescent moon - if they point to the east, it is getting larger (hence, increasing light) and if the points of the crescent are to the west, then it is waning.  I can tell you, without even looking at it tonight, that it is waning and will be a new moon in the next ten days or so and then we will be slowly waxing toward May's full flower moon.

"Every one is a moon, and has a dark side

which he never shows to anybody."

 ~ Mark Twain

Come Walk With Me.....I Would Love My Flowers To Meet You.

After a long and crazy day of work - either as a veterinarian, or a mother/wife/farmer - there is one time of day that I look forward to - the evening constitutional, my stroll through the gardens,... my walkabout. There are many evenings when I get home and drop all my stuff on the steps to the porch and quietly stroll around the flowers for five or ten minutes. It lets me forget the day's disappointments and frustrations and brings me back to earth....literally. I have built my flower gardens all the way around my house to allow for a leisurely walk before I enter the house and am greeted by my mob. I could spend hours trying to describe the loveliness, peace and tranquility, but my words would fail miserably. Better simply to allow the pictures to speak their thousands of words for me.