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

Mid-January: Deep Winter Visits

Sometime in the early morning hours during our first deep freeze of the year, the pipes for the chicken watering system exploded with enough force that it knocked the whole thing askew. The crack and boom sound roused the dog, who in turn roused the Cottage Engineer, who in turn determined that with an outdoor temperature that felt like -3 degrees, an investigation into whatever caused the noise could wait until daylight. So it did, and the photo below shows what that investigation revealed on a cold morning last week.

Ouch. Best estimates: the shut-off valve from the rain barrel was frozen partially open, and although it seemed like the water supply had been turned off, it was not. Ouch again, and oops. These things happen, and we just move forward. Fortunately, the heated waterer in use inside the coop can serve as a temporary backup with the minimal additional cost of labor (mine) to fill that water source every day. Since the staff here at BPC are elbow deep in the kitchen redo, I'm grateful to have the time that gives us to re-think and re-engineer before we rebuild the watering system. 

This photo was taken when the coop and barn were first built. It shows the Engineer in deep thought about some project design. I am holding space for this forward for the water redo. 

I just came back inside from tending the chickens. It is currently 8 degrees and feels like -6 with the wind chill. Most of the girls were still in the coop; nobody was in a hurry to go out in this cold. Hank stopped at the back door and looked up at me as if to measure my sanity. Sorry, pup. If you want out, this is the only way to go. Two nights ago Hamish scooted through the back door when Rhodes and Hank were coming in. I spent 30 minutes tracking him all around the neighborhood before he finally allowed me to pick him up and carry him home. This morning, he looked toward the door with absolutely zero interest in traveling through it. 

It snowed all day yesterday, resulting in a sparse dusting on the ground here at the Cottage. This land is tucked into a sweet little geographical bowl, and weather systems are often funneled around us by the mountain ranges to the north and south. I would love to experience a good, heavy snowfall; it has been two years since a measurable amount fell here. Goodness knows we need the precipitation, but She also knows the many ways in which people and domestic animals suffer in wet, cold weather. Perhaps she is doing a kindness here. (note: silly, ridiculous, hopeful wishing on the part of this writer.)

No surprise that I am choosing to spend the remainder of this cold spell emulating the black bear by denning in. I will consume and produce words, do some hearth magic, and periodically fall into a state of torpor. I do not know for certain whether bears are grateful for their dens, but I am for mine. I'm going to go refill my tea cup and create a flexible map for the balance of this day.

With love from Bear Path Cottage,

Sheri

Chicken Update - Long Overdue

After some disruption and schedule shuffling, I am finally easing back into my normal Sunday routine with the chickens. I find it comforting to be back on track, and I will anthropomorphize enough to say that the chickens do, too.

I still have 20 chickens, but the rooster, Mary, has been gone for a while now. He moved on to a small homestead with someone much more experienced in dealing with an aggressive rooster. There are three other roosters there to help keep him in line, and he's adjusted well to his new life. The Cottage chickens are a lot happier and more mellow now that he's gone. 
In a funny twist that amuses and frustrates me, since his departure more of the ladies have gone broody than ever before. First Bree, then Bree and Gussie, then a break, then (surprisingly!) Jazz who is the oldest, then Jazz and Mae, then Gussie and Elke at the same time as J and M. There are currently four chickens sitting broody, with two of them hogging the nest box. What the ever-loving fluff, girls? Get over it. Jazz sits in there and purrs like a dinosaur from the first Jurassic Park.

The new watering system is great, and I am glad I made that change. This morning I added supplements to the system and it was so easy to do. I just turned off the water feed from the rain barrel, then drained the pvc system which holds about two gallons of water. 
I added Hydro Hen (2 scoops) and Poultry Booster (2 teaspoons) to a gallon of water, poured it and one more gallon of plain water into the pvc pipe, and turned the system back on. Easy peasy.

They seem to like the flavor of this Kool-Aid mixture, as there is a lot of talk among them while they are drinking. 

Greens from the gardens - both wild growth and things I've planted - are a great addition to their diet this time of year. This morning I pulled redroot pigweed, which is a species of amaranth, out of the south yard for them. I haven't seen it here before, so it must be a gift from some visiting birds. I also give them comfrey, nutsedge, lambs quarters, roses, bee balm, yarrow, salvia, and whatever else I find that they can have. 

                                                      Redroot Pigweed

Egg production has slowed down, probably because of brooding behavior. They get occasional production quota talks, but don't seem to care. Right now they are laying 8-9 eggs a day. 

I have decided to cover more of the run with some kind of roof. I think I'd like to use the clear or green polycarbonate panels to allow more light, but this is probably going on the autumn project list. I'm just not happy with how muddy the ground gets in the run, and I don't think its healthy for them. 

Best part of the Sunday chicken routine - time on the swing, watching the chickens be chickens.

Peace out. 

Choosing Battles

 The world "out there" is overwhelming today. I look, sometimes simmer, acknowledge what is going on, and occasionally discuss a topic with someone I trust.

But I'm not wading into that fire. No, thank you. I stay informed enough to know what I need to do, and I already know what I can do, so those are the things I am focusing on.

The world is burning while I am tending my physical, emotional, and spiritual gardens. If I become consumed by fighting every fire, I will have nothing left to give. So I'm nurturing the soil, planting, building, watching life bloom all around me, and I am listening, observing, and loving what needs to be loved. Taking action when action is the right move for me to make, choosing my battles instead of swinging at pinatas.

I'm feeding chickens, filling waterers, gathering eggs, slinging dirt, and talking to plants and spirits and ghosts. Loving my darlings, kitchen witching, summoning and cajoling words, making and living magic. This is what I've got.

#onthebearpath

#bearpathcottage

#cottagewitch

#chickentales

#cottagegardens

Weekly Chicken Update - Edith Rising

Never underestimate chickens, the closest living relatives of Tyrannosaurus Rex. They may have fragile bones and bodies, be prey to countless predators, and are easy victims of disease and parasites, but they nevertheless surprise with their ability to recover even when recovery seems to be against the odds. 

One week ago, I was concerned that Edith (a 2-year-old Icelandic Viking hen) was dying or would require special care for the rest of her life. Over several days she experienced decreasing mobility, eventually becoming unable to stand or get into the coop at night. She could move, but only in an army crawl. Her tail was down, and she was not using her wings. Her symptoms might have resulted from an injury or any number of diseases that could affect the entire flock, so I moved her into isolation and made an appointment with the chicken vet, Dr. Beth Rhyne (Bird House Mobile Exotic Vet https://www.birdhousemobilevet.com/). 

Under normal circumstances, I would isolate a sick or injured bird in a kennel on the workbench in the barn. But winter temperature fluctuations and an issue with rodents in the barn nixed that option, so Edith has been living her best spa life in my bathtub for over a week. Obviously, this is less than ideal, but it was the best way to provide her the care and restful environment she needed. 

I brought Edith inside on a Saturday morning. The first step in treating her was to give her an Epsom salt herbal soak, which was soothing and could ease her symptoms. After her spa treatment, I examined her and found no indication of injury, bumblefoot, signs that she was egg-bound, or that she had an impacted crop. She seemed to be eating, drinking, and pooping as normal. Her comb was a typical pretty red, her eyes were bright, and she was alert. 

Spa Soak

Feeling pretty after her bath

Between Saturday and the vet appointment on Wednesday, I pulled every anti-inflammatory/medicinal herb I could think of out of my home apothecary. For the first two days she was in the house, I tempted her to eat with a mix of steel-cut oats, yellow grits, dandelion roots, lavender, St. John's wort, chamomile, rosemary, echinacea, bee balm, and chopped apple. Once I was certain she was eating, I replaced the oats with her regular feed. Local stores were out of Hydro-Hen, so I added Sav-a-Chick electrolytes and probiotics, rooster booster, and rose water to her water. There were also plenty of conversations with the land spirits and with Brigid, whose altar oversees the barn and chicken coop. 

Part of the trickiness of keeping a chicken isolated is its extremely social nature. Being away from her flock can cause depression, negatively affecting physical recovery and even the will to live. 
Friends who also keep chickens offered suggestions on how to make Edith as comfortable as possible while she was confined, and I found a few helpful tips on websites as well. 

Lining the tub with puppy pads and putting pine shavings on top of those made for easy cleanup every other day. At one point, I had an "oh duh" moment and brought a small pine branch in for her to roost. A ticking clock, two mirrors suspended from the shower rod and towel bar, and a stuffed chicken friend named Nellie helped round things out in the bathroom. 

Fresh air, sunlight, and contact with the earth are some of the most beneficial natural medicines available to every living being. Weather permitting, I took Edith outside for an hour or two of free-range time each day. Even when she wasn't moving well, she foraged and pecked and seemed happy being where she really belonged. 

By Tuesday, I could see that she was starting to get depressed. On Wednesday, the vet said that she also thought Edith seemed a little depressed, so we took Edith's care up another notch. I fixed up a basket with the same puppy pad/pine shaving set up, and Edith spent time every day hanging out with the rest of the fam in other parts of the house (she's definitely a fan of British mysteries on Britbox) I kept an amused but watchful eye on her blooming friendship with Mojo, the youngest feline resident of Bear Path Cottage. Side note: tell people you have a chicken in a basket and watch the range of expressions that cross their face.

From what I have read and what friends have told me, people often have a hard time finding veterinary care for their chickens. I feel fortunate that we have access to a good vet team and even more so that they make coop calls. Dr. Beth Rhyne and Veterinary Assistant Delilah Wilson were non-plussed by conducting an exam in a bathroom and were, as always,  kind and gentle with Edith. She weighed in at 1.27 kg (2.79 pounds), and Delilah remembered that Edith had been the smallest bird in the flock when they did a flock check last year. 

Their examination of Edith didn't reveal any injuries, either. Labs were drawn, samples taken, and they left us with encouraging words and a prescription for a broad-spectrum antibiotic to start getting some medication on board. 

Wednesday through Friday the days passed much the same. Edith grew more vocal, communicating with my husband and me and with the kitten who went into the bathroom every time one of us did. Although there was no real improvement in her mobility, she didn't seem to be losing ground, either; still eating, drinking, and having the expected results of those activities. 

Saturday afternoon, I went in to pick her up to go outside and was surprised to see her standing in the bathtub. She walked a few steps, wobbly as a weeble. I took her out into the warm fresh air, and although she tired very quickly, she walked her wobbly walk for a distance of 10 feet or so. She has continued to improve every day since then. On Sunday, she looked like Jack Sparrow at his worst, and by today she was walking with a perfectly normal gait.

I heard her in the bathroom before I was even out of bed this morning. She was talking up a storm, probably griping or psyching herself up for the effort, and then I heard the very distinctive sound of her hopping up to the edge of the bathtub and then down to the floor. She seemed quite proud of herself when I went in, and made it clear she is done with being held captive.

Less than an hour later I received good news from the vet. Edith's lab results came in with no evidence of liver failure or kidney disease, no fecal parasites, and the only bacteria that showed in the culture was E. coli in both the blood and cloacal cultures. The fungal culture results have not come in yet, but the vet is confident we are on the right treatment track. E. coli is sensitive to the antibiotic Edith is already taking, so we will continue that course of treatment. 

Chickens carry E. coli in their system all the time. For some reason (cold? rain? mud? stress?), the levels in Edith's system broke through the normal barrier and made her ill. More good news: other than adding some probiotics to their water, this is not something that I need to treat the rest of the flock for.

This means no round of antibiotics for everyone that would put us in an egg desert, throwing away 3-4 dozen eggs a week for two months. Even better, I can start the process of reintegrating Edith into the flock. This will happen at a slower-than-usual pace because even though she is showing great improvement she still gets tired very quickly. I do not want anything to happen that could jeopardize her total recovery. 

I really thought my chicken day could not get any better than it was when I received that good news. 

But when I took Edith outside this afternoon, she did something that made me have the best chicken day ever.

I wish I had been able to get it on video so you could see it. Chickens have this funny, endearing, wonderfully lolloping way of running and flapping their wings when they are happy. I watched Edith run across the yard like that not once but twice, as if her fierce little heart just could not contain its joy.  As if she had never been happier. As if she hadn't a care in the world. 

Seeing that rising joy made all the concern, worry, and work of the entirety of my time keeping chickens worthwhile. And it brought home the depth of emotion that comes with honoring my commitment to holding life sacred as I work with this land. 

Edith spent two hours free ranging in the yard with her sister Mae today. In another place and time, Edith and Mae were my dearest great-aunt and my grandmother. Tomorrow I'll bring Marg and Gussie, the other Viking sisters, out too. 

My heart is content. I hope theirs are as well - the chickens and the Gone Befores.

Soul Journey

I spent much of last fall and this winter in a state of existence moving between hibernation, torpor, and wakefulness, and I have had very little contact with the world beyond my own. An exception to my inward focus has been my participation in a weekly writing group, and that gathering always nourishes my spirit.  

The topic of this series has been Soul Journey, and tonight's subject was about the moment one says yes to their soul's particular journey. I have been thinking about this for quite some time, as my life has shifted significantly over the past 13 months, and I am often in awe of the changes. 

No one moment, no round-headed pin on the map, no single enlightened conversation brought me to the point of commitment to the road I am traveling. I have walked so far, through so many different landscapes, dark beneath the weeping willows, bright atop the mountains, but it has only ever been a journey made by moving one step at a time.

Distance and time have no real meaning to me anymore. Years of struggle, years of therapy, years of work. Tears of pain. Sometimes I would bargain with my demons and myself to get through a day or a mile or the longest nights. Just get through this meeting. Just get through this day. Just walk to the next bench, then the next one. Just swim this lap. Run this water mile. Ten more steps. Ten more minutes. Five. Just make it five minutes without leaving this place, and then you can think about it again if you need to.

I say yes to this journey every morning that I wake and then a thousand times a day, and I do so gladly and joyfully. Every time I get out of bed, every food and water dish I fill, everything I plant and plan, everything I harvest, every bee I talk to, bear I observe, coyote that sings me to sleep. “Mother, keep me mindful…Give me your work, which is to be joyous and to tend all things because all things live of themselves and with your spirit. Your will through mine, So mote it be.”

The conversations with myself, my spirit, my heart, and my brain have changed now. I have no more thoughts of leaving because I am already gone from where it matters most. Where it now matters least. 

Now, the most adorable love cats in the world to talk with. Now, the wild pup who is my homestead work partner. Now, the chickens with their nonsense and demands. Now, the land spirits with their whimsical humor. Now, the divine who never left me, even when I blinded myself to her presence. Now, the life partner whose own fractures never keep him from being the rock I can lean against when I have need.

Now, I am home. 

Imbolc: A Time of Hope and Dreams

Before the sun rose on Imbolc, I reclaimed Brigid's mantle from the slender arms of the hawthorn tree which grows above her altar. Gathering the fabric into both hands, I held it to my face and inhaled the mingled scents of moonlight and fresh dew. It was an intuitive act that linked the peaceful early morning ambiance, the cool texture of the cloth against my skin, and the pleasing smell with the magic of the mantle. I love the very thought of having this gentle healing magic available in my home health kit. 

Later in the day, I took a walk around the Cottage proper, connecting with the comfort and shelter of home after having been out and about in the world for a while. The disquiet I experience when I am away makes it clear that I am not ready to leave my inward focused time behind. Truth be told, I probably never will be. I am okay with that. 

As this day reminds me, Spring is coming. She always does. Whether I stay at home or wander into the world, growth, new birth, renewal, and change will continue to happen all around me and within me. The weight of the world sometimes blurs that hope and reality, but the peaceful magic of  Bear Path Cottage has become a touchstone that helps to clear my vision. 

The daffodils that were gifted to me by a friend last year are already pushing their way out of the ground. The garlic is doing the same thing. And it was cheery and uplifting to see new growth and buds on the apple trees, elderberry, juneberry, and forsythia today. 

I have worked hard over the last four years to build the foundations of this tiny homestead, and it gives me a sense of satisfaction and contentment to see that work paying off. During the upcoming growing season, I will be making some significant changes to the vegetable garden as well as working on the native plants pollinator garden. A recent shift in managing the chickens means they are starting to pay for their own upkeep! I am grateful for their help in that regard. It gives me a good feeling to be able to share the abundance of the Cottage with friends and neighbors. 

Imbolc historically marks the beginning of the lambing season. Although I love them and think they are adorable, there are no lambs at Bear Path Cottage. The pace of garden work is slowly picking up as the weather permits, but in this still-quiet time, I will continue to dream about creating beautiful spaces, growing flowers, and harvesting fruits, berries, and veggies to nourish myself and my family.  My hopes are running high. 

Apple Tree

Daffodils

Forsythia

Juneberry Tree