Moving from the city to the farm was not part of my childhood dreams. Glen and I met at university in Biology lab. I was fully ensconced in my city life, he had just recently purchased a small hobby farm.
After a few years in our relationship I moved out to the farm, a commitment to give this a try knowing my commute back to the city for school and work meant I wasn’t not completely severing ties.
My next commitment was in the form of 24 egg laying chicks. It was an uneventful drive to the farm after I picked them up at the local co-op. Their new abode was ready including heat lamps and fresh hay. Given they were here to grow large enough to start providing eggs, I considered this a longer term venture.
They were settling in and I was up at the garden tackling the weeds which were now bigger than the vegies. It was a good spot to keep an eye on the barn and think of the very cute chicks and their addition to the farm.
Looking up from the chore at hand I saw one of our two sows sauntering in the side barn door. Was that left open?? oh oh
I ran down to the find the sow licking its chops… and not a chick in sight… not even feathers. The pig had devoured them.. all but one. I heard a peeping from the far corner.. going over gingerly I saw this traumatized feathered creature, dazed but alive..
Guilt and sorrow settled in. I chastised the pig, clearly for my benefit alone. It would be a long time before I could forgive and forget.
With chick in hand we slowly moved up to the house, absorbing what had just transpired. She was settled into a box in the spare room. She needed time to grow and therapy to heal before going back to the coop.
So we developed an attachment. She was, perhaps, oblivious to her surroundings but safe. I knew the inevitable, as she grew larger she would need more chick space to roam.
So that day came. Down to the barn we went with a spring in our step, and into the coop with more fresh hay and heat lamps.
Next day I sauntered down, enjoying the morning sunlight, to feed the few animals we had. I headed right for the coop, alas, not chick to be seen. I looked in the pig pen, this time seeing evidence of feathers and bones. They will eat anything and likely she flew into the pen looking for company.
The perils of animal life… and my reliance on anthropomorphism to make sense of it and perhaps misguiding me.. would stay with me as I continued on this farming venture. And we then had two daughters who then joined in on the adventures and quirks of farming life.
Wanda