The Pampered Pullets Farm
2012
The Rooster's Crow
By Eric Lofgren (c) 2009
Throughout history, we have been fed with the idyllic image of a beautiful farm located someplace amongst the lush rolling hills of the upper north east. The fully restored 1800's farmhouse. The bright white rail fences. The grand red barn with the white trim. All set within the bright green stocks of corn waving in the morning breeze. Below in the valley, a weft of smoke drifts from a chimney. The pristine white steeple that stands tall among the trees.
Out of the darkness comes strutting the farm’s blue- ribbon winning Rhode Island Red rooster. Sleek and bold, he silently slips between the shadows as he leaves his roosting place amongst his girls. Out across the drive and then with an effortless leap he is on the fence. In a flash he disappears back into the shadows only to be seen shortly after standing in the doorway of the hayloft. He takes a quick look around and again slips back into the shadows. Soon, there in the twilight he can be seen, standing proudly atop the barn’s peak. All is quiet and serene.
Gazing down from his vantage point, he looks this way and that, surveying his territory to be sure all is well. Suddenly, the first rays of sunlight pierce the darkness. The shadows shift as he gazes off to the west. He turns back to the east as the leading edge of that burning golden orb ascends above the hillside. He takes one last look to the west, peers out at the north lawns, takes in the view of the south forty. He turns back to the east. He resets his feet, puffs up his chest, stretches his neck to its limit and lets out a crisp and clear “cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do“, heralding the start of a new day on the farm.
Winter
By Eric Lofgren (c) 2009
For many across the nation, the throws of winter are upon us or just around the corner. The last of the cord wood is being split and stacked. The flowers have all faded and the trees are but skeletons. The fall harvest is in and canning has been underway for some time. The smell of fresh baked bread and pies fills the homestead. We are all battening down the hatches for the winter months ahead. The generators have been fueled and checked and all the flashlights have their new batteries. The days are getting shorter and there is a distinct crispness to the air. The last of the hunts are on in the hopes of filling the freezer with fresh meat to carry us through. A warm fire crackles in the hearth. For many, the first of this season’s snow falls has blanketed the mountains and hill tops.
The natural brooding and hatching of chicks is over until the spring thaw comes. The hens have recovered from their molting and the roosters are gaining their glorious tail feathers back. The hen house has been re-sealed and a bit of insulation added to help protect from the winter winds ahead. A heat lamp has been hung for those really cold nights and new bedding put in the nest boxes, the fences have been checked and mended to keep winters predators at bay.
The hens are in the yard pecking at bugs, seeds and nuts, putting on that layer of fat to help keep them warm in the months ahead. The roosters are perched high to watch over their flock. The clouds are a steel gray as they creep in from the north. It is preceded by a light breeze that merely rustles the dried grasses. Quietness falls upon the land. There is a smell about the air that can only mean one thing. There, way up high, it is spotted. The hens cackle with joy and the rooster lets out a resonating crow. Tumbling every so softly, the first snow flake falls to the ground.
Winter is upon us.
A New Beginning
By Eric Lofgren (c) 2010
The first blossoms of Spring are coming to life. There are new scents in the air and the birds are starting to return from their winter migrations. The northern snows are slowly beginning to melt away and down in the barnyard a new flurry of activity is taking place.
There are new calves being born and a wobbly colt tries desperately to follow its mother. The little lambs are bouncing around out in the pasture and the tiny piglets are all in a line for a good feeding from the sow. But there, over in the corner, hidden amongst the hay bails comes a faint little chirp. Tucked away for the last 21 days, the broody little hen has been diligently setting on her clutch of eggs. Through the snows and winds and rain she has been quietly hidden away in the warmth of her nest. But today is a special day for this is the day that she has worked so hard and sacrificed so much for. She has all but given up eating and drinking, only to emerge once a day for a quick bite knowing that she cannot leave her eggs too long. She has given up her social time with the flock and has only softly cooed to her unborn hatchlings. She has tirelessly moved and rolled each egg so that the tiny chick inside has stayed warm enough or cool enough so that it has grown at the same rate as the others. She has fiercely defended her eggs from any threat that has happened by. From the hapless field mouse looking for a warm place to hide from the winter weather outside to the other hens who have wanted to steal her nest to raise their own young. This little girl has sacrificed much and the reward shall be great. For there, tucked in amongst the warmth of her body the first chick breaks free from the confines of its shell. First one and then another and another. Soon she has a whole brood of fluffy little chicks and she is a proud and happy mommy. With that first chirp Spring has officially arrived.
