Letter to my children: Pocket Peas, Black Caps, and Baby Chickens
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“Didn’t you pick peas for dinner?”
“OOOOoohhhhh, right.” Dragon reached into his pocket and started pulling out handfuls. “I did pick them, and I forgot.”
3 peas were palmed onto the counter. 4 more peas were placed on top. Handful by grubby handful, peas appeared.
I looked at our dinner guests and started laughing, “would anyone like some pocket peas?”
Surprisingly, everyone but the family declined to eat pocket peas. Ah well.
Pocket peas arrived at the same time as the black caps.
“Momma, can we pick black caps?”
“Of course, try to avoid the poison ivy as much as possible.”
“Yes, Momma.”
Black caps (wild black raspberries) grow along the edges. So does poison ivy, vines with thorns, stinging nettles - one works for the fruit.
20 minutes later dark purple juice stained clothing, fingers, and mouths. Everyone was outside stripped down from the knees. Standing in the outdoor shower we watched the time for the 2 minutes to make sure all poison ivy oils were sufficiently dissolved by the soap.
That afternoon there was a shout out from the front of the house. “The babies have hatched! I see baby chickens!”
About 4 weeks ago we started noticing one of the hens refusing to leave a nesting box. So we confirmed we would be around for the births, set up the momma in her own space away from the nesting boxes (always good to have an excuse to re-use a dog crate and cardboard), begged some fertile eggs from a friend, and waited.
Her comb and wattle faded from dark red to anemic pink.
We wondered if the eggs were not good.
Her neck drooped onto her chest feathers.
We discussed giving 2 more days and then dismantling her nursery.
But then, babies! The miracle of life happened in our chicken coop!
When I was growing up our miracle of life happened when Grizette had kittens. She must have had about 4 litters before Meme and Baba decided that was enough. We would take the kittens to the Eastern Market in a cardboard box and give them away. One summer, all of the baby kittens died from flea bites (most of them had not even opened their eyes).
To safeguard the Momma Hen’s sanity for the first few days of motherhood, we watched the activity from outside the coop to not scare our newest small charges.
As they peeped, stretched, preened, bobbled, and wibbled about. We laughed, exclaimed, and admired.
Life observing new life.
