Chickens
Dear Claire, We knew you were special the moment we saw you. You weren’t just after our eggs! You came into our pen to see US! How did we know? Because you didn’t want to leave even though we are starting to molt and all four of us squeak out a total average of one […]
A couple of weeks ago I learned that if a tree falls in the middle of the night at Spirit Hill, no one hears it. Well, the chickens must have, since it fell on top of their house, but they’re still not talking about it. Who knows, maybe they are heavy sleepers and they slept […]
One time my sister-in-law told me about how she snuck some fancy chickens into their spring order. My brother and his family live on a farm in Maine, and my sister-in-law makes sure they have all sorts of animals to tend to including a bearded dragon lizard and three goats that think they live in […]
This morning the chickens looked, well, morose. Maybe it’s all the social distancing. Maybe it was the frost. Maybe they are still incredulous over the fact that they molt and look bald just as it starts to freeze outside. Maybe they miss laying eggs during this molting season. Maybe they are still in shock over […]
I have a dream. I want to write a book called My Year at Spirit Hill Farm, and I want my friend Laura Foote to do the pictures. Why? Because just look Spirit Hill Farm. Just look at this chicken. My most favorite piece of writing is Annie Dillard’s essay Living Like Weasels. I like […]
“When one has tasted watermelon, (s)he knows what the angels eat.” ~Mark Twain
I had no intention of falling in love with the chickens. I try to be a good person, but I have to tell you that I think chickens are weird. If I’m totally honest, I think I was partly scornful of them because they are my shadow selves running around freely: easily frightened, scared of […]
Every Thursday I send Carolyn and Melissa my weekly report. I list what I did here at Spirit Hill, tell about things that happened, brag about the vegetables I planted and am now eating. Stuff like that. I keep a notebook and every night before bed I write in it all I did that day […]
I have not named all the chickens at Spirit Hill Farm. I did not come here a chicken lover exactly. I mean, I like chicken sandwiches, but I never asked Santa for a chicken of my own. Why? I wanted a horse. But the six chickens that live here are starting to grow on me. […]