Exhale

(Relax) It’s going to be alright!

“Peep! I’m freezing in here!!”

When I found the egg, it was cold to the touch. It had the tiniest little pip mark in it. But Tweetie had abandoned it. She was off with her newborn chicks, showing them how to be chickens.

There were 6 eggs remaining in the nest and 5 lively, lovely chicks peeping about. She’d pushed one egg out of her nest previously, which we discovered smelled bad.

“Good nose, momma hen, that one is indeed rotten.”

Now I examined the remaining eggs. One by one, I found they either smelled bad or felt sloshy inside (not a good sign for an incubated egg), or both. All but the one with the pip mark in it and one other I didn’t rule out. Not yet.

Oh, no! Poor little thing must have died trying to get out!!

I held the little egg in my hands and mourned the death of the baby chick. I breathed on the egg, willing it to live. How sad to die while trying to come out of the egg… then, to my surprise, the little beak moved and a high pitched sound came out of it. By then, the little momma noticed someone had messed with her eggs.

Where are my eggs? I know I left them here!! Who’s been messing with my nest?

Tweetie, the momma hen

I gave her the egg with life in it and another that I hadn’t ruled out, yet. But she was outside of her nest when I gave them to her. She rolled them under her and sat on them for another couple of hours, until it was time to go back to her nest with the babies… then, abandonment round 2 came on!

So, when I returned, the 2 eggs were cold again. It seemed certain the baby chick must be dead. My daughter and I were sad as we returned to the house with the little egg. (I determined that the other was sloshy at this point and got rid of it.)

Rest in peeps, little one!

my daughter

I gently warned the egg in my hands and breathed onto it. Exhale! I chipped at the shell a little, thinking how sad that little one couldn’t get out of the shell and that momma abandoned it, again. “We’re going to find a dead chick in here,” I thought… But curiosity drove me to chip at the shell. I had to see it!

Much to my amazement, the little beak opened and closed.

High pitched peeping came out of the shell and the baby chick moved! Oh, no!! Now I’d chipped at the shell although I knew that “helping” them out of their shells can cause them to bleed to death. That much I knew.

Why do I have to pick at things? Why can’t I leave them alone?? Why, why, why??

Now, what? I’d only chipped a little bit, but when it began squirming I could see that it was bleeding. I held my thumb there to provide a little counter pressure.

Live, little one! Live!!

I cradled it gently in my hands, warming it with my breath as well as my body heat, and wondering what to do. At some point, my children took over the task, because I had ceramics class that evening.

I did consider taking the hatching egg along, but later was happy I didn’t because I would have been totally distracted!!

I came home to find this 😍 Spitfire hatched while I was in class!

I applied counter pressure on several occasions because even after she was born, there was some bleeding; I didn’t want the baby chick (who we named Spitfire) to bleed to death.

Little one spent its first night in my room; we didn’t dare try to reintroduce her after bedtime.

It took 2 tries before we successfully reintroduced her to the flock, because we are newbie baby chick parents/grandparents. But we figured it out.

And Tweetie is a great momma.

In fact, the morning after Spitfire was born and slept that first night in a plastic box with hot water bottles and pocket warmers, in my bedroom, I went out to check on the rest of the chickens. Momma hen was in a state. She was upset. Like she knew someone was missing.

I hurried back to the house to bring her Spitfire. But we’d been snuggling her, so she smelled like people.

We didn’t really trust that Tweetie would take Spitfire back. Not after abandoning the egg twice. She’s basically a teen mom, after all. She only began laying eggs this summer! So Spitfire came back to me, when she got cold from trying to convince Tweetie to let her go underneath her for warmth.

I went inside and watched a video my husband sent me, about reintroducing a baby chick. You can watch it here, if you’re interested: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BIaAz3QjV0U

I wondered if she smelled too much of people, so we stroked her with mint and rosemary and left her inside the box the second time, tipping the box to let her go to momma. This time it worked!!

Voilà!

The whole process really impressed upon me the value of breath, life and warmth. I think of myself as snuggled like this (below), in the warm, protective, gentle, loving hands of the one who breathed life into me.

Photo credit to my hubby for this shot (& the same one above)

Be more like a chicken!

(Some) momma hens are the best!

Did you know that broody hens sometimes pluck out their own chest feathers to make sure they are adequately warming their eggs?

I was thinking about broody hens removing her own feathers this week while having a discussion about mental health with one of my adult children. He’s no longer an “egg” that needs warming, per se, but he needs people with real, authentic emotions. He won’t benefit if I’m not willing to take off my mask, the one I need for in public. The one I have to wear because, face it, nobody wants to hear me talk about the real, nitty-gritty struggles of life.

In fact, I still have not gotten over the irony of how many times I got cut off during a discussion last Sunday evening about pruning. All I could/can think is: cut off = pruning

I can metaphorically pluck out some of my feathers and get more real with my kids. If it will help them grow, then I need to do it. Maybe it will even help me grow??

Parents, be like momma hens: give your kids the real you. Let them feel the warmth that you have to offer them. The world can be so cold. Be real. Be authentic!

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling." 
Matthew 23:37
This (Jesus) quote has been in my brain for so many years... I've been longing to see what it looks like when hens gather their chicks. Now, voilà!! 😍

I’m a chicken grandma!

Feel free to congratulate me on the birth of my first grand babies.

We hurried home from the south of France to witness the hatching (as well as one can witness something carefully guarded by a mama hen) of our first ever baby chicks! Perfect timing 🥰

Helps me remember how dreams take time to hatch. As I mentioned in my previous post. Sometimes you have to look for it

Sometimes you have to look for it!

Long past their prime, the lavender fields were no longer in bloom. But there was still goodness to enjoy in the south of France.

This lovely, lone bloom stood waiting to be appreciated on the rosebush.

There was peace to be enjoyed and walnuts aplenty.

Plenty of walnuts for us AND the birds.

This all just reminds me of the truth that I need to get past my dashed hopes and expectations and enjoy the life that is before me right now. This is the life I’ve been gifted.

It’s my present present and I need to be present to enjoy it.

I can also work towards those dreams I have. What can I change in the future to have a better chance to realize those dreams? Dreams take time. They need to incubate. Everything worthwhile takes some time and effort (from someone).

What can I change in the future to have a better chance to realize those dreams?

Sitting in the gentle warm sunshine in the south of France, I realized that, like baby chicks, dreams don’t materialise in a day.

There she is, the good little mama, Tweetie. She’s pretty sure she’s going to hatch a dozen eggs. Nevermind that it’s November!

First the idea is conceived. It grows over time, and as it’s fed. One day before long (provided you aren’t sitting anxiously wondering when it will happen), there it is, keeping you awake at night, reminding you to take that next step in making it happen.

I'm letting go. I'm giving myself grace to take all the time I need in producing artwork. I'm giving over the time-keeping task to God, the only one who can do it perfectly.