The Wild Hunt - What Time is it, Mr. Fox?

 https://wildhunt.org/2024/02/what-time-is-it-mr-fox.html

On Love and Compassion

 I believe my mother tried to be a kind and compassionate person her whole life. Perhaps it was an attempt to heal the wounds she suffered from the cruelty and abuse she endured as a child, a young woman, and a young mother. Much of that trauma was inflicted by her own family and the family she eventually married into. I could recite some of the stories here, but a few of the villains are still alive and Jeannie the Loving would not want me to publicly shame them. In fact, she probably forgave them long ago.

Toward the end of her life, she seemed to double her efforts to see the good in people, even if she had to work extra hard to make that happen. It didn’t matter what was going on in someone’s life, she always had something kind or encouraging to say about them or to them.

One of her last public appearances happened on Valentines night in 2008. There was a heavy lake-effect snow falling, but she insisted that I drive her to the hospital where she worked so she could take special holiday treats to her 2nd and 3rd shift coworkers. They were accustomed to her deliberately thoughtful and silly little gifts and she wanted them to remember her that way. More than one person cried when they hugged her that night, but everyone of them smiled when they saw her.

Jeannie Barker February 2008

I have often wondered about her increased need or desire to show love and compassion in her final moments in this realm. Was it prompted by fear of not being accepted on the other side as she had so many times felt rejected, unloved, and unlovable in this one? Or there, so close to the next place, sometimes crossing over and coming back, had she learned a marvelous Truth? Had fear and judgment been dissolved by the promise of a new beginning?

My mother left this realm literally surrounded by the love of her family, her fear and sadness soothed by love and compassion. What a gift. What a blessing. What a revelation of possibilities for the ways her life might have been different if those gifts had been freely given all along.

Much love to you from Bear Path Cottage this morning, and from Jeannie Beannie as well. Her light shines on.

Mid-February: Finding Hope and Beauty

8:00 a.m.
25 degrees, sunny, cold wind

There are 22 chickens in the flock at Bear Path Cottage, and 20 of those are laying hens. The two oldest, Jazz and Pearl, have reached their retirement years, although Pearlie still likes to sit in the nest box every once in a while. The chicken run is adequately sized, and most days, the girls spend at least part of the afternoon enjoying a version of free-range access in the fenced backyard. Nothing guarantees the total safety of chickens who live outdoors, but the set-up here keeps these birds as safe as possible from predators.  Add to their safe environment that they have a healthy diet and plenty of enrichment foods and activities, and I think these birds have a pretty good life. 

                                                                              Jazz

There's an understanding of sorts between chickens and chicken tenders; an unspoken agreement, a psychological or social contract that the tender will provide a good life for the chickens, and the chickens will provide the tender with eggs. Last year, we had a few good egg weeks, but overall, the chickens were not holding up their end of the bargain. I began to consider whether I had made a mistake by increasing the size of the flock and whether I should rehome some of my feathered darlings to a like-minded homesteader. 

When I started growing the flock, it was with the intention and hope that I could sell enough eggs to at least break even on the cost of feed and supplies and hopefully have a little extra money. Last year's lack of egg production and one very expensive chicken vet bill kept the tally column for chickens firmly in the red. I considered downsizing with the hope of being able to cover some expenses with intake from selling eggs. Keeping a flock this size costs somewhere between $120 - $150 a month, including feed, scratch, supplements, and supplies. As much as I love them, my fixed income needs them to help support us all. 

Of course, there is no point in even thinking about egg production levels (that sounds so funny, like we're in the movie Chicken Run, when really we are starring in our own live production about happy co-existence!) during the cold, dark months of winter, when most chickens stop laying or lay less frequently. Some chicken tenders use lights to trick chicken bodies into thinking they still have long days and short nights so that they will lay more frequently. In my opinion, that is poor stewardship, as their bodies are obviously designed for and need time to rest. Feeding and caring for them through their quiet time is part of the care agreement. 

Starting about mid-January, these chickens have surprised me with a slight but steady increase in the number of eggs they are laying. I do not expect a regular output from any of them until April or May. To be honest, I don't expect a regular output for anything from anyone who lives here! As I've been emerging from my own quiet time, rather than being goal-oriented, my focus has been on seeing the beauty in the world around me and looking for hope in unexpected places. 

The everyday beauty and happiness at the Cottage include the chickens and their sweet, funny personalities and behavior. And I don't think I will ever stop being amazed and delighted by the beautiful colors in the nest box and egg basket; white, blue, olive green, and three different shades of brown. Over the last few weeks, I gathered 2-3 dozen eggs per week, which gives me some to sell, some to share with friends, and some to use for baking or breakfast here at home. 

In my morning walks around the gardens, I have been gathering bits of spring green to share with the chickens. When I am doing the morning chores that provide their care, I talk with them about the weather, the dog, the world, and, lately, about the coming spring. They seem to be excited about it, and they are more eager than ever to have their free range time in the afternoon. I don't know if their tiny bodies are just ready to be solid producers or if they are responding to the TLC and warmer days, but in the last 10 days, these 20 laying hens have produced 7 dozen eggs. 

They might not continue this wild burst of energy. But...they might. 

Planting a new variety of apple tree in the tiny orchard this spring might not mean an apple harvest this year or next. But...it might. 

Supporting loved ones making big, brave life changes might not change their world. But...it might.

Sharing with friends and making community connections might not save this world. But...it might. 

Taking time every day to look for beauty might not change MY world. But...it does. 

So much to think about. So much to look forward to. 

Much love to you from Bear Path Cottage. 

Here's a rundown of the Bear Path Cottage resident chickens

Icelandic Vikings - white eggs - these girls were named after my grandmother and her sisters

Mae (Mae Mae)

Gussie (Augusta)

Marg

Edith

Dark Brahma - brown eggs

Jazz - this lady has aged out of laying, but still lives a nice life

White Ameracauna - blue eggs

Pearl - also aged out of laying, and still has a nice life; Pearl has a scissor beak

Smokey Pearl - The F Troop - brown eggs

French Broad

Miss Frizz

Welsummer - terracotta eggs

Hawkeye

Cream Legbar - blue eggs

Elke Summer

Demi (Demeter)

Ursula Andres

Dwen (Cerridwen)

Blue Copper Marans - The Mystery or Murder Crew - dark brown eggs

Agatha Christie

Jane Marple

Ariadne

Barnevelder - brown eggs

Raquel Welch - she is a mahogany barnevelder

Dame Diana Rigg - is a silver-laced barnevelder

Easter Eggers, blue or green eggs, but one is an olive egger

Artie (Artemis)

Bree (Brighid)A Cinnamon Queens - dark brown eggs Gloria Gaynor Loretta Lynn These two birds came to us as rescues last year, having survived a dog attack that killed their flockmates. The person who rehomed them wasn't sure if they were Rhode Island Reds or Cinnamon Queens, but as their sweet, friendly, affectionate personalities and temperaments continue to emerge, it is obvious that they are Cinnamon Queens.

The First of February - Imbolc 2024

This day dawned clear, bright, and cold, and I was surrounded by fire and ice as I walked around the orchard and the Cottage garden, with the rising sunlight dancing on frost-kissed plants. I felt a little ripple of excitement in the earth beneath my feet, as if it, too, wanted to rise up to celebrate the growing light on this day halfway between the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. This was the first day I have allowed myself to begin looking at the work I will need to do to ready the gardens for Spring, and there is much to do. The priority and (hopefully) only expense will be adding another variety of apple tree, and I think I will need to purchase a 3-year old tree and have a nursery install it. That will likely happen in May or June. Time to start saving the egg money. And just like that, I am transported from frosty morning to thinking of new growth and new buds, and hoping for an apple crop to harvest. 

This morning's harvest was a simple one; I plucked the tall, whispery remains of last year's pink muhly grass. I thought I might make a Brigid's cross with them, but it did not take long for Mojo, Hamish, and Lily to find the stalks on my desk and remind me why I don't keep dried florals anywhere the cats can reach them. They are far too tempting to play with and nibble on. I used them on my altar for my solitary Imbolc ritual and later tonight will burn them in the firepit outside in a small closing ritual for the day. Yes, it is true. Witches like to burn stuff. 

Black bears have started stirring from their dens in this area, and on this day I welcome their return while honoring the Great Bear Mother. History has twisted the strands of her storyline, but I feel no need to sort them out. She and I know each other in this here and now, and that is enough. 

In this region, sows started giving birth in January. Appalachian Bear Rescue has already received four tiny neonate cubs which breaks their record by three. One of those fellows has already passed; they are delicate little beings. The first two cubs were abandoned when their mother was frightened away by the noise from a chainsaw. Some folks were clearing up a downed tree in their yard and had no idea that the sow had denned in the tree. They waited as long as possible to see if the sow would return, but it was getting dangerously cold for the cubs, so they were taken in to rescue. The second two cubs were found by firemen whose firefighting equipment had disturbed their den, and were also taken in to rescue when the mother did not return. If it is at all possible to place these cubs back with their own mothers or with a foster mother, Appalachian Bear Rescue will make sure that happens. 

Here is a link of a video clip published by BearSmart that shows bear activity inside a den: https://fb.watch/pXVjKVJVKT/ and a link to the related article on their page https://www.bearsmart.com/about-bears/north-americas-bears/

There are more frequent stories of bear conflict with humans and in human neighborhoods. More disturbing to me is the increase of internet posts containing false information about bears, often intended to provoke a malicious response by community members. Please use discernment when reading posts, comments, or articles online, and contact your local wildlife agency if you have concerns about bears in your area. It is possible to coexist peacefully with bears and other wildlife, but humans have to make an effort to make that happen. 
Information is available on the BearSmart website, and also at https://bearwise.org/

Mmmhmmmm. Mama Bear channeling Great Bear Mother, perhaps. 

The rest of my day passed quietly, speaking with loved ones and doing chores. I went out before dark to check for eggs, and found a broody Raquel in the nest box sitting on this perfect, light-brown treasure. It seems a fitting end to my hearth and home focused day, and I am grateful for the gift. 

Blessed Imbolc, friends. Keep moving toward the light.

With love from Bear Path Cottage,

Sheri