On Hatching
Yet another installment of lessons from the ladies.
A couple weeks ago, I was waiting for my daughter to change into her leotard for gymnastics and decided to do a quick balance check on my bank account since it was getting toward the end of the month. As she bounded down the stairs, I slipped my phone back into my pocket, digesting the fact that I was hitting a point of intensity that I hadn’t experienced before.
What I had in both checking and savings would only barely cover the mortgage on July 1, and I wasn’t going to get paid til July 2. I could put end-of-month groceries on a credit card, but it was a new feeling to know that I was going to have a $0 balance, even for just a day.
I was still thinking about this as I pulled into the driveway on my way back from the gymnastics studio, and I was surprised to see one of my alley neighbors come right up to the driver’s-side door.
“This is for two winters ago, for the kitty litter you gave me to help get my Suburban unstuck in the snow!” he rushed, pressing a twenty into my palm as I got out of my van.
“You didn’t need to do that!” I said, reaching back in my brain to remember that day.
As I walked slowly back inside, I smiled and laughed at myself. I had been wrapped in my thoughts of income-generation and even stricter budgeting, and God, in the form of my alley neighbor, jolted me out of my preoccupation and said, Hey. Breathe. I got you.
My therapist thinks I’m handling this well - observing, acknowledging, having compassion, not spiraling.
“I know I could be doing more, though…” I started.
“No, Clara. I think you are doing all you can,” she interrupted.
I am trying to believe that, and be faithful, and be attentive, and trust in the world of abundance that I know is there because I have experienced it. I don’t mean name-it-and-claim-it prosperity gospel, but the fact that when we participate in the abundant life of communal relationships, the community holds us.
I am waiting both actively and patiently for whatever comes after this present reality. I don’t know what that is, but something is incubating. When will it hatch?
—
I’ve been trying to generate a little extra cash by selling a couple dozen eggs each week, but since we lost a couple of chickens and two hens went broody, we’ve been a little low on eggs for ourselves. So a month ago, I decided to take advantage of my two broody hens and purchase seven fertilized eggs off Craigslist to expand our flock.
Note: None of my eggs are fertilized, because I don’t have a rooster. Broody hens will sit on any eggs, even if they will never hatch. Don’t feel dumb if you thought all eggs automatically could become chicks - a lot of people don’t think about the rooster copulation process!
Now, if I had an incubator, hatching would be more guaranteed. But I decided to go the natural route and see what these hens could do. I marked each fertilized egg with an X and nestled them under the grumpy broodies.
I didn’t know this until talking to the person who sold me the eggs, but the 18-21 day chick clock doesn’t start until the hens start sitting on the eggs. The fertilized eggs can hang out on the counter like any other egg and just start their miraculous journey when they receive the heat cue from the hen (or incubator).
I found this to be a beautiful illustration, because I thought of so many eggs of potential that could have become projects/careers/relationships, but I did not put in the time and patience for them to grow into, well, a viable life form, shall we say. For others “eggs of potential,” I did put the effort in, and they bore fruit. And there are definitely other eggs that I just haven’t sat on yet, or I am sitting on right now, waiting for them to “hatch.”
But not every fertilized egg hatches. Broody hens who are committed usually only get up 1-2x/day to eat and drink. My two ladies, however, often got up to switch spots. If the other chickens laid eggs in another nesting box, one of the broodies would go sit on those eggs, sometimes leaving the fertilized eggs alone. If the hen leaves the eggs untended for a whole day, they often become inviable.
After a couple weeks, I realized that I could only count four fertilized eggs. What happened to the other three? Hens will often shove dud eggs out of the nest. I can only assume that the hens sensed that they were not viable, and so they ate them. They kicked out yet another egg a few days later.
I was still trying to make sure the marked eggs were underneath a hen, but when I passed the 21 day mark on June 29, I assumed no chicks were coming. It had been a fun experiment, but it just hadn’t worked out. At least I was only out $10!
But on July 2, I opened the nesting box door for the monthly coop clean-out, and a tiny chick nearly fell out.
It was still damp from hatching and had huge feet compared to its tiny body. I gently closed the door and went inside to tell the kids to come see. A tiny surprise miracle!
We’ve raised a couple batches of chicks from the hardware store, but I’ve never done it, ah, au natural. I realized I had no idea what to do. How soon did it need to eat? What if the surrogate mama hen ate it?
The next morning, I focused on the joy I felt from the fact that this tiny life emerged in my backyard, but I released the outcome. I hoped it was still alive, but I also know the way of nature.
I was moved to tears to open the nesting box and see the chick cheeping and very much alive, snuggled against mama hen and looking delightfully fluffy.
On the Fourth of July, we had some friends over for pool time, and when I went to open the nesting box, I saw that one of the other eggs had an unsuccessful hatch. I don’t know what happened, but the chick was dead.
I was sad but not surprised. This is just the way of things - not everything hatches. Not all seeds bear fruit. Not all relationships persevere. Not all jobs pan out.
I’m a bit embarrassed to write this, but because we had friends over, I didn’t bury the dead chick right away. I kind of just…brushed it onto the ground, planning to return soon and dig a little hole.
I didn’t end up burying it for another 24 hours, which was yet another opportunity for reflection. Sometimes we do not say goodbye to a failed venture or do not honor a loss of relationship at the best and appropriate time. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still make the farewell we need to make.
I recently read through Joy Harjo’s poem Washing My Mother’s Body - A Ceremony for Grief, and she explains that she had desired and planned to wash her mother’s body right after she died, but that opportunity was taken away from her. This poetic ceremony was a way of expressing that honor and care, even if it wasn’t the ideal time or method.
It’s not too late to give it back to the earth.
Yesterday, the chick ventured out into the run, closely attended by Mama Hen, but peripherally guarded by all the aunties. I watched Mama Hen model drinking out of a tiny puddle of rainwater, with the chick following suit. The chick zoomed along the enclosure, cheeping with increased intensity, but Mama Hen found it and calmed it.
The image of Jesus as the Mother Hen has always been one of my favorite Bible passages, but I feel like I am understanding God’s patience and care at a whole new level now that I am observing an actual Mother Hen and chick.
The final fertilized egg hasn’t hatched yet, but with no hens sitting on it, I don’t have high hopes. But I don’t know - I had given up hope on any of them hatching, and then I was shocked to open the door to a newly-emerged life form. So it’s possible.
But another truth I know is that, even if our hatch rate is only 1/7, the time these hens spent sitting on the eggs was not time spent in vain. The value of the work isn’t dependent on the quantity of the results, whether we are talking about chicks or income. I wish I could see Mama Hen with a whole brood of babies, but she’s devoted herself to the one she has, and she is giving her whole effort - along with her supportive community of sisters - to raise this baby bird.
I’ve struggled with despondency this week with so much violence in the world, so much death - and I don’t mean the natural death of a chick struggling to hatch, but the murderous intentions of half of our national elected officials who approved massive safety net cuts to benefit the top few earners, the Israeli army shooting on purpose at starving Palestinians seeking aid, the racist objective of ethnic cleansing through “Alligator Alcatraz” [Alligator Auschwitz], and the devastating flooding in Texas made all the more deadly by years of disinvestment in climate resiliency.
And yet, in the midst of it all, here is this tiny life. Against the odds, this little one made it and is being raised in a matriarchal community of care.
What am I sitting on? And what are we incubating collectively?
While we wait, we breathe. And we hear God saying - Don’t worry. I got this.
—
For additional context and reflection on financial vulnerability, see this post about credit from last summer and this one from December.
For other lessons I’ve learned from my ladies, check out these past posts:
So very needed thank you 💕