Sometimes It's Not Just The Temperature That Is Low
I begged, fought, pleaded, bargained with my husband for ten years for chickens. He never really had a concrete reason for saying no. He would hem and haw about this and that with reasons that made no sense until I gave up for awhile. Then I would get back on the chicken kick and we would repeat the process.
When I finally fell in love with Chick Norris and decided, I am not taking no for an answer any longer...I am getting chickens come hell or high water, I asked my husband why he always said no. He finally gave it to me straight. "I don't want to see you upset when you lose one. And I know you will be very upset when that happens." See my husband knows what an animal lover I am. He also knows that I sometimes struggle with mental health and things that might not bother people very much, bother me quite a bit.
We didn't lose our first chicken until summer of 2021. I took losing my polish hen Dorotta hard but being my first chicken loss, I thought I did well. And honestly, each one got a bit easier. Well except for Chick Norris. That one we knew was going to be a rough one. And it was. The first time, and only time so far, I had to cull one of my own chickens was rough. It sent me into a state of shock that even scared my husband a bit. However, now we know that if I have to do it myself, I can. Which as a chicken owner/farmer, you need to be able to do.
Each loss has been tough. I won't lie and say it wasn't. I love my chickens. I anthropomorphize my animals probably more than I should. Each has a name, a personality, characteristics that are theirs alone. I have been proud of myself for taking each loss and being strong through it. Mourning each life and then learning from each one on what I could or should do differently, etc. However I have never been hit so hard that I actually said, 'I don't want to do this anymore.'
As most of you know, and probably experienced, the last two weeks have been awful weather here. Snow, ice, subzero temperatures. More snow, now ice. It's a lot to deal with. It has added extra time doing chores. Concessions have had to be made which include the Duck Nuggets being kept in a pen in the garage. An under the weather chicken caged in the spare bedroom. Early morning and frequent daytime watering and egg gatherings. Mornings dreading opening the barn door, worried someone might have passed away in the nighttime cold. Straw everywhere including my house, my hair, and my pockets. I am having to ride to work with Lloyd some mornings due to not being able to get my car out of the icy/snow packed driveway. We are exhausted. We are cold. We are ready for Spring.
Thursday when I got home from my day of appointments in Columbia, I went up to do chores and found my 3 1/2 year old BatChick laying down in the straw. Not on her side, just sitting there, however she wouldn't move when I came in the barn. Totally out of character for her. She is one of the original pack and always near me when I am in the coop. I went over and sat down with her and helped her up to give her a quick inspection. She walked away but started limping, favoring one leg. As I felt around on her leg and feet she did seem a bit tender near her left hock but that was it, no other outward injuries or signs of illness or pests. So down to the garage she went. We let her acclimate to the warmer house temps while I ran to Salisbury to grab another crate to put her in. She got a nice lukewarm epsom salt soak in which she seemed to relax and love. She ate a great dinner and settled in to her new crate well. I checked on her Friday morning before work and she chattered at me from her makeshift nest and seemed just fine. Unfortunately when I got home Friday evening and went to check on our makeshift chicken infirmary of BatChick and Arizona Robbins, my little BatChick had left us to go to chicken heaven. I am not sure what happened. She had no outward injuries/symptoms besides the small limp, no broken bones that I can tell, no parasites, not egg bound. Best I can tell is a heart attack, cold stress, or something along those lines.
Losing one of my original Chick Pack has been hard. Especially in the midst of this horribly stressful weather. Saturday was very rough for me. I woke up feeling lower than I have in a very long time. I spent some time in the barn holding ChickMunk, my other Easter Egger from my original Chick Pack and I just cried. I have spent so much time, effort, money, and love on these chickens. And I know things happen. But to have something happen that I couldn't fix or control or even confirm what actually happened is hard on me. I walked down to the house and told Lloyd "I don't think I can do this anymore. I don't want chickens anymore. This is too hard." I have never uttered those words, I have never even had them cross my mind. Thankfully my very sweet, understanding husband knew that it was a combination of the grief and exhaustion talking. He calmed me down and helped remind me that this is just a rough patch. That the good times outweigh the bad. The cold snap it almost over. And then insisted I take a nap.
We have had ups and downs on our small farm. Gains and losses. Highs and lows. As Lloyd said, this is a rough patch. I try to be so positive to myself and the outside world that when the sadness and negativity does hit, it's a surprise for even me. I try to portray so much of the fun, educational parts of animal owning and not show the really hard parts. I have also tried so hard not to get upset by losing a chicken because I don't want to hear people say or imagine them thinking- it was just a chicken. Or damn girl, you can get more.
I have to remind myself, it's ok to feel overwhelmed by it all. I just can't give up. Most of all, I have to remind myself it's ok to feel sad and low. I just need to let myself feel, take a moment to myself, then get up and take care of my babies. Because they are worth it. Every single minute of straw in my hair, snow in my boots, and ice cold hands.
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