Spring has come to Quesnel B.C. and with it children, chickens, and chicks roam about my yard.
The lawn has finally stopped talking to me which each step and the mud lakes have receaded to mere puddles. AND from my lawn chair
I CANT SEE ANY SNOW.
During The Melt our coop which was like an island (Poop Island) was only accessible by boot.
Yet daily I washed a steady flow of stinky soggy socks from the “forgetful”. Those socks worked like toppings- on the mud caked pants that clogged the laundry room.
It felt like things couldn’t possibly melt fast enough, so I attempted to help it along early on in March. Frustrated that the garden gate was frozen shut, I found myself climbing the 8 foot fence, chuckling at my agility, and landing in the garden with my kids snow shovel. I rediscovered my dirt.
I let the chickens in the garden and created pathways for the flock. Then I chipped away at the ice holding my gate captive, and two days later I opened it’s latch. I flung it wide and entered my pad with great satisfaction.
Then it was coop mucking out time.
My Mom happened to visit from the Okanagan. Being the country girl she is, that coop was mucked and freshly chipped before the kettle announced tea. She also rubbed my sore shoulders from my previous attempt. Thanks Mom.
A deck shoveling work party also commenced. Involving all my small people and their neighbor friend. As it turns out, pretending to be construction workers demolishing a great ice wall is a great deal of rewarding fun.
The kitchen view was also much improved.
Then it became time to prepare for our April arrivals. Much to my surprise, they ALL arrived that first week of April.
Five fuzzy little chicks!
I dared not hoped for a 100% hatch rate. (All those times the Broody hen hopped off the eggs and how cold it was during her setting time!) But the Great Creator built His creation with such intuition in these things. I was baffled and amazed at how our young Chicken Mother, not quite a year old, knew exactly how to hatch chicks. When to pluck her stomach feathers to warm the eggs, when to hop off to eat, drink, and poo, when to hold up on the nest, rotate her eggs, and lastly care for her young in the feathers of her wings.
The children and I had troubles knowing just how many chicks had hatched, as they were all tucked up inside their mothers down. We counted the egg shells she tossed out of the nest, and ooed and awed as little fuzzy heads popped out only to quickly bob back in. Sometimes the mother would move and a chick would fall out from under her. The chick would run a little circle then dive back into its mother like a bird disappearing into a hedge. The last to hatch, Clover, would ride on top of her mothers feet tucked up in the warmth of feathers with only her stick legs poking out.
The kids and I squealed and marveled at their antics.
With the sunshine, yellow balls of breathing fuzz, and my own little fledgling son toddling around the yard in gumboots. Spring danced in. Jonas, Elise and Sammy have also spend nearly as much time in the air as the ground with the excitement of having their trampoline back together. They even drag little Si up on there. I love calling them from the deck to come in for dinner and hearing them laughing and out of breath. Then watching as they dangle their legs from the tramp, feel with their toes, and drop into their boots. I smile as they use teamwork to re-boot their little brother. One kid holding on tight while the other crams on the gumboots.
Then all four run in for dinner.
I love that although I tried to help Spring along with her melting, and the hen with her hatching, and my children with their growing- they all did it anyway
under the watchful care and design
And me? I get to witness it, marvel at it, touch it, hug it, feel it and thank Him for this abundant Life.