A Metal Rooster

Maybe you don’t know of my love for chickens. This time of year farm supply stores have an abundance of baby chicks, bunnies, and ducks for Easter. The children love them, and my daughter was no different.

The first time we stepped inside a farm supply store, she was 5 years old. Seeing all the babies, there was no way I could deny her a few baby chicks.

polishfrizzle

What I thought I was buying for her, turned into a long time passion of mine. For years I had chickens, and loved having fresh eggs everyday.

egg-basket

I had chickens that laid a variety of colors. Some of my most healing moments were spent cleaning the chicken coop while listening to music. It was where I would escape while building up the courage to leave my 25 year marriage. Being there brought me peace in difficult times.

Chickens got me through it. What looked like caring for them, was really very soothing for me.

They all brought me joy, but there was one that followed me around the yard. Her name was Reese. She knew my life was in turmoil, and she would show up throughout the day like she was checking on me.

She wouldn’t come in the house, but she would get as close as she could. Here she is sitting in a planter by the front door. She laid her daily egg in that pot.

reese-in-pot

Isn’t she beautiful? She’s a Polish hen.

I’m speaking in past tense, because none of my chickens are with me anymore. I brought them with me to our new life on 40 acres, but we had possums that would come at night, and get into the coop.

I tried everything to keep the chickens safe including moving the coop closer to the house. It was up on the deck by the back door, but the opossum wasn’t deterred.

I won’t put another life in danger for my happiness. I worried over those chickens every night, so the joy was already gone. I was now in ‘protection’ mode to see if I could keep them safe and I couldn’t.

A metal rooster is what I have today.

It reminds me of my time with them, but it doesn’t need my protection. It braves the elements all on it’s own.

 

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