Anyone who has known me for any length of time, has met my chickens. They are a source of love and delight to me. They are also a source of living in the moment and great contemplation.
In my humble opinion, we can all benefit from anything that gives us pause to come into the moment. So, whether it be in the morning with my coffee, or in the hot doldrums of summer, when it has become too late and sweaty to do much of anything else, I delight in sitting and observing my girls and their antics. They seem to take equal pleasure in observing me as well — a mutual admiration society.
I have what I call my hillbilly patio. It’s a mound of grass behind our summer kitchen. I’ve hung a few cheap wooden signs up in decoration, put out a rain gauge, some cheap plastic adirondack chairs and some makeshift end tables to rest drinks on. Nothing that could be destroyed by the antics of too big mutts, frolicking grandchildren or nesting chickens, you understand. We depend on comfort on this farm.
In the morning, at sunrise, I free the chickens from their safe haven in the electric fenced chickenyard and coop, to free range in the larger yard. They commence to look for ticks, other bugs and worms, steering clear of our ankle biter dogs, but socially coming up to visit the big dogs and us, especially if we are wearing any shiny jewelry or nailpolish on our toes. They love it is we pick clover or wildflowers to feed them. Chickens are a lot more social than people would like to think. They are very nosy, actually.
Watching chickens is very conducive to mindfulness practice. You might be tempted to bury your nose in your phone, reading texts or the morning news, but if you do so, you are going to find your toes pecked, or your coffee dumped, as your favorite hen tries to take a sip. The stray string in the hem of your jeans might resemble a worm and then watch out, as the old biddy tries to pluck it repeatedly for her breakfast.
It might be a quieter morning however, and then the better observation might be just watching the girls as they watchdog the yard, spreading out and carefully preening the entire yard, step by step, mindfully, stripping the yard of near-invisible predators you might not have known existed except for their bobbing heads.
Or maybe your favorite friend comes up by your side and just stares into your eyes knowingly, as if she has something to say. Looking, looking, walking away, then returning, waiting for you to talk back. When you don’t retort, she stalks around the chair, looking up at you, like, “What’s your problem?”
My hens are my friends, all right, expecially at feeding time. And I better be on time. At 4:00 pm when I walk out the door, they are lined up on the porch, waiting for me. I fill the buckets, say, “Foo-ood,” and they waltz behind me back to the coop, as I fill the feeders. We are all creatures of habit. Mindful.
I sure learn a lot about living in the moment from my girls.
This made me smile. I think chicken watching is way underrated and misunderstood.