Feathered Followers

Wherever I go in the garden, I’m rarely alone. My birds follow me hither and thither, without skipping a beat. They think I’m going to open my big bag of tricks that has gardening supplies in it and feed them some incredible morsels that they’ve longed for. Although less annoying than some dogs that also drool a lot, they are a handful. Or in our case, they are several hands’ full. And even though I’m not the person who feeds them morning and night, but the stand in who prepares their meals lovingly, and gives them extra on a whim, they know I love them. So. if I’m doing something outside, they work side by side with me and we all pick up the same energies and vibrations. In fact, we seem to be on the same wavelength a lot nowadays. Either I’m turning into a chook or they’re becoming more and more human every day.
I know I go on and on about these animals. They are central to my writing at the House of Cluck-Cluck. We’ve had these inbred generations of a few varieties of chickens since 2002, after all ten of our hens and our rooster were slain by a sly ferret that managed to get into their quarters through a slight gap in a fence and destroy the lot at our historic homestead, Glenmore House. After that horrendous discovery, my aim was to find birds that would survive the predators and the caretakers’ wrath, both quite challenging. But we realize that we’re tempting fate by keeping so many maturing cockerels, and at some point, we may have to cull this flock of so many or my mate may cull me. But for now, I relish their antics. They take me from any bad to middling mood into bursts of laughter or recriminating call outs to the naughty ones. In either case I’m definitely not pining over lost opportunities or old memories I’ve dredged up to upset myself. I’m in the moment here and must be attentive, so any negativity has to wait until later. But when later comes, I’m way too tuckered out from all these big garden tasks and the energy I may start out with in the morning is hidden from me by the afternoon. Chasing the roosters around adds to this exhaustion or even trying to figure out where the clucking hens are actually laying in the endless grasses that are very overgrown but excellent hiding places for a dozen eggs or so.
This seems to be my life now but already some new options seem to be sprouting although it’s early days. For now, I’ll just continue in my almost rote way to care for all the big and medium sized and teeny creatures around the place and cook for the tallest one, John.