chickens | Ashley Raymer-Brown

“What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off?” – Matthew 18:12 (NIV)

Last night, as the evening sky grew dim, I went out to the chicken coop to make sure all the chickens were safe, and to close up the hen house. We keep the Roosters separate from the hens, and we count them before leaving to make sure everyone has come in for the night. Last night, I counted 12 Roosters. We currently have 13. That is more than the average chicken owner has, or should have, but it’s what we’ve got, and we are making the best of it right now. Anytime we’re missing one of them, I think of the above verse from Matthew, and decide to do my best to search for the rouge animal.

I recounted, and got the same number: 12. A thought hit me. I rescanned, and realized I was correct. We have a white rooster that, on occasion, decides he wants to sleep in the trees instead of in the safe haven of the coop. Normally, we can understand his decision. It’s a nice night, he wants to be out of the stuffy coop…etc. But last night it was a befuddlement of reasoning. It was pouring down rain, a cold wind was blowing, and the leaves of the tree had blown off, offering no protection from any elements.

I went to the tree that he normally roosts in, and there he was. Standing tall in the torrent of rain. It didn’t even make sense. I admonished him, “You silly Rooster, get down and go inside where it’s dry!” because don’t we all talk to our animals? He remained, stoic. He was drenched, but if a Rooster could, he radiated pride. “We’re both wet! You can’t be happy! Get down!” He would not. I checked the base of the tree and found a stick.

Gently (because I’m not a monster) I poked at him. The bottom of his feet, the back of his legs. Irritating him just enough that it made him uncomfortable to sit in the same position. He fussed back at me, re-adjusting and trying to stay on his branch. “I’m doing this for your benefit, you silly thing! I’m trying to move you to where it’s safe!” More fussing, more re-adjusting, more pride. “Okay, fine! I’ll irritate you all night if I have to!”

Eventually, he jumped down from his perch. But did he run into the safety of the coop? Nope. He ran past it. “Seriously?? What is wrong with you? Why don’t you trust me??? I’m trying to keep you safe!!” I finally herded him into the coop.

As I made the trek back to the house, soaked but proud I had managed to protect this silly little creature, I was gobsmacked by irony.

The Lord- (Clears throat) “Ahem.”

Me- “Ohhhhhh. I see what you did there.”

The lesson I took away from this 15 minute ordeal was a strong one. Maybe decisions that we think are a good one at the time, are really nothing more than us standing out in the rain, with chests puffed out, defying anyone to change us or our environment. And maybe we should trust that when Life’s little irritations come our way, they might actually be being used as a gentle guide to change our current circumstance, or a way to keep us safe.

Day Four of being snowed in the house.

I didn’t even bother to get out of pajamas. The day was spent, as per usual, in front of the computer making book revisions with furry supervisors, candy, and copious amounts of water, hot tea, and Dr. Pepper. (Liquid of champions).

Around 5:30 p.m., I decided I needed a break. The mail hadn’t been collected, so I spent five minutes suiting up in order to fetch it. The end result was that I looked more like Randy in “A Christmas Story” than I care to admit.

I waddled down toward the driveway, wind stinging my eyes and crystalizing the tears that involuntarily welled up. I passed the garage where my car is securely stuck, and walked on down the driveway, drifts reaching up to my knees at some points. Finally making it to the mailbox, I opened it like a pirate finding his treasure chest. Oh! The battle it took to make it here! Oh the riches that undoubtedly awaited!

It was empty.

“Figures.” I thought, and trudged/waddled back up the driveway. The chickens had obviously not been let out today, so I needed to get them food before dark. Back at the house, I opened the front door and let out an exuberant Riley. He began his sprint toward the chicken coop.

Only, today, he got stuck.

The snow was legitimately more than he could jump over. I did not feel that bode well for me and my analogy from yesterday. He made it to the shelter of the chicken coop and waited for me while I fed them.

When I left, he just stood there, shivering. I told him, “You have to make it! I told everyone on the Internet that you were Farm Dog!”

He looked at me, probably thinking, “Just pick me up and I WILL make it. Even Farm Dogs get COLD.”

So I did.

I carried him back until the snow levels got lower. I set him down when he could make it and he sprinted happily toward the house, waiting for me at the door.

If I wanted to get analogous, I’d say that sometimes we need to let our Owner carry us over the rough patches until we reach the safety of home.

Or I could just straight up say, “Stay inside! It’s cold!!”

Both are true. 🙂

P.S. Riley has the perfect outline of Abe Lincoln on his right side. I think it shows up quite nicely in the featured image.

Right at 35 days before my 35th birthday, Rachael and I found out that a book we wrote about our experience making our first film “No Lost Cause,” was being returned to us by the publisher after a year of waiting for it to be printed. Instead of wallowing in our collective misery, I committed to blogging every day while I searched for ways to overcome this perceived rejection and obstacle to our goal. I currently also have about three other projects brewing at the same time, and write about the progress of each of them. This is part of that series.

Read the first entry here: https://ashleyraymerbrown.com/2015/01/23/35-days-to-35-dealing-with-rejection/