Anxiety and Chickens

by Tiffany

“At the farm” is still so unnatural. Even though this is really a partial farm, it still feels all farm-y and weird and out of my element. Once we are collecting eggs and collecting fruit from the orchard and harvesting veggies from the garden, I’ll look back at this and laugh at my city slicker self.

(Let’s pause: From this point forward, I will be using made up farm terms and made up words…Please know, dear grammar police and farm experts, there will be an onslaught of improper terms following this brief disclaimer…)

And CHICKENS??!! Ladies and gentlemen we have come to the time in a chicken’s life when they are no longer “so cute”. We have entered the realm of chicken tweens. Our girls are growing and getting awkward and nosey. They are right at a month old and have outgrown the brooder (baby chicken box).
Chicken tweens is probably not the proper terminology for our girls but it accurately describes this stage of chicken-ing. Much like a 11-13 year old, the girls are beginning to stink up the place. They are leaving their crap everywhere and climbing up and jumping around constantly.

According to our feed store chicken expert (made that up…I don’t even know if he has chickens or just identifies that I have no idea what I’m doing), it’s time for the girls to move into a bigger space. They have outgrown their baby bed and it’s time for a toddler bed.

We started this process today. It’s a process because, if I haven’t made it clear, I don’t know what I’m doing. So my farm girl and I set out to collect some hay for the floor of the coop.

We made a mobile coop so that we can roll it around the orchard and fertilize the orchard and de-poop the coop. So far we have collected poop laden shavings in boxes and bags and put them on the burn pile. Soon we will be rolling away from the poop.

The floors of the coop are made of chicken wire and slats that we can walk in (and fall between). I fall between the slats about every other day. It’s just fantastic and not frustrating at all.

But I walked into the coop and was overwhelmed with the smell and the thought of a bed switch. Just like when we moved our babies from their inescapable baby bed to the wide-open toddler bed, I feel anxious about this next step.

What’s funny about my anxiety is that…these are chickens. I bought extra for when the predators come and hand pick the most delicious. It’s just a simple bed move.

But it’s new.

And anything new has all the sudden put me on edge….at high alert…and eager for the next predator to catch me in a moment of weakness.

I’ve read all the anxious verses. Prayed about it. Cried a little. Tried to be thankful. Talked about it. And got mad.

Then I read about being still and silent. Sit and listen instead of talk and talking.

Are you in a season of drought? Of plenty? Are you anxiously awaiting a word from God or in despair because of the word you heard.

Let’s sit. And listen for a while.

Be unrushed and shushed.

Be still my soul; the Lord is on your side