Hello,
Let it be known that my wife went away for the weekend, and all of our chickens were alive when she returned home.
Yes, we are chicken farmers again. As you may recall, in the fall our three surviving chickens became stew fodder, their egg laying days being over. After a peaceful chickenless winter, eight new chicks took their home at our home. We got them at only a day after they broke out of their shells, and now, some months later they have become nearly full-size chickens. They have survived Duncan’s (our dog) drooling gaze. They have survived chilly nights. They have survived the stalking of four fox pups that we discovered lurking in the brush……and they have survived Kate’s three day absence and my three day care-taking assignment. (You may remember that our previous flock of chickens were not so fortunate in all these cases.)
But, I have to confess that their lifespan nearly reached its culmination when my wife was away. It happened when I went out to feed them Saturday morning. Connected to their coop is a completely enclosed chicken-wire pen that has a door to the free world for the chickens to go in and out, and a hatch on the top that allows a person to reach in and get the water dispenser for refilling. My plan for the chickens’ survival was to keep them in the pen during Kate’s absence. Unfortunately, I did not know the chickens well enough for my plan to work.
I opened up the hatch and noticed their water dispenser needed to be refilled. So, I took it off its hook and made my way to the house to fill it from the spigot. When I returned with the newly fill water dispenser I was aghast at what I saw. Two of the chickens had flown through the open hatch and were strolling around in the danger-filled world. My attempts to corral them were unsuccessful as they took flight to get around me. Being the chicken genius that I am, I thought that if I opened the door to the pen, they would hear their chicken friends calling them back and they would go back in…..wrong! No, their chicken friends heard the call of the wild and they charged out the open door to join the two escapees.
Determined that I would not be guilty of chicken neglect, I took a seat on my porch and waited out their wanderlust, hoping they would return to the pen by themselves….and so they did after about an hour of scratching and pecking the ground.
With this experience behind me, I am glad, as a sort of rebellious chicken, myself when I read from the book of John; 11“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. 14I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep.”
Good thing that Jesus knows how to take care of his “chickens” better than I do!
Have a great week.
God’s grace and peace, (ggap)
Pastor Jerry Nuernberger
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