The last of the darkness lingers longer and longer every day. The moon spends more hours reflecting the sun before giving way to the dawn. The old trees and the new flowers wait. Still. Drooping. Waiting for the first stirring breeze that heralds a change in the weather. Autumn is coming, will come. Just wait. Just wait. Pouring the morning’s first cup of coffee—I dreamed last night that I was still drinking coffee at 6pm like a crazy person—I want to share a personal blessing that has also blessed my home with some unexpected joy.

In March, we purchased three Red Sex Link hens, and one Production Red hen. They were only a few days old when we got them and now as I’m writing this, I’ve gotten 3 eggs. Astrid (my Production Red) is my biggest hen and the most opinionated. She clucks all the time and pecks at me. She’s friendly but in her own crazy way. She hates being picked up and will tell you. As a baby, she was my calmest and easiest to identify as she was mostly brown already. Sif is my first layer. She was my least tame, least friendly chicken until about two weeks before she started laying. Suddenly, she turned into my nosiest, clingiest hen. She always wants to be near me and scolds Price and anyone who goes out of the house without bringing her food or letting her out of the coop. Sigyn is my friendliest and bravest hen. As a baby, she was a little standoffish from the other hens, learned to fly out of the brooder first, and got attacked by a snake. She will chase squirrels, doves, and grackles. Anything that dares enter her yard is shown off immediately. She likes to sit on my shoulder or my head. She likes to take trips to the garage. She likes to sit on whatever book I happen to take into the backyard. Freya is my smallest hen. She’s a beautiful golden orange. She has a very sweet temperament. I often find her somewhere close by if I stop and sit. She’ll come sit beside me or at my feet. She’s quiet and calm and often confused by the run gate. I have to make sure she doesn’t get pushed aside when it’s treat time.

Astrid, Sif, Sigyn, and Freya.

I’ve raised chickens before, but it’s been 30 years since my mom had her little homestead. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but what I didn’t expect was how much delight and femininity these four crazy birds would bring me. I didn’t expect to become a chicken lady. So be warned, you may read this and find yourself unexpectedly becoming a chicken lady yourself…and chicken math is a very real danger.

First Unexpected Joy—The Warming of my Home: The first several weeks of their lives, from March to May, Astrid, Sif, Sigyn, and Freya lived in the house. They started out in the laundry room, moved to the dining room by the back door, and finally to the garage-only-at-night. I noticed quite quickly that having small needy creatures added a new level of cozy to our home. You ladies with pets and all you moms won’t be shocked by this, but since we haven’t had pets or small children, I was able to experience this delight tangibly for the first time in a long time. There is something about the way we were created by God that was meant to exult in and be soothed by smaller-souled creatures. I think this is why plants are so important. We were designed to enjoy sheltering others with our shelters.

Hearing the small peeps, watching them just flop over and sleep like the dead, checking and double-checking on them warmed our cozy little home on a whole new level. It wasn’t something I could measure. I don’t have a cozy-o-meter that ticked up a few notches, I just sensed it in myself and my husband and the house.

Second Unexpected Joy—The Slowing Down of Life: I’ve always been concerned that having any pets, even working pets, would be a hindrance to my freedom. Yes, I love animals and spent all of my childhood with animals. As a grown-up, I’ve had moments where I thought about getting a pet and then wondered what I would do with it when I went out of town. (Like we travel that much.) In May, when the hens were still babies, we did go out of town for my husband's work. I left my hens in the care of my MIL and my two nephews for about a week. I was so worried they wouldn’t recognize me when I came home and that I wouldn’t recognize them. As soon as I walked in the door, that fear evaporated. I knew exactly who each one was and they were so happy to see me.

I’m a big believer in not saying yes to all the things in the home or outside of the home. Each of us has an energy/engagement budget that we need to stay aware of and not overspend. I’m a big believer in not overstuffing my day so much that I live in a state of franticness. I want to be able to go outside. I want to put my toes in the grass. The hens have helped me move into another level of slow living because they require my presence to be outside their small run. In the suburbs, I’m not allowed to free-range them. There are busy roads, dogs, cats, and cars all around us. I don’t want them outside our backyard. So I have to be here to watch them if I want them to get some bugs and grass and sunshine.

Instead of feeling like I’m also trapped in a cage, it’s given me a reason for my slow living. I need to go in and out today so that I can keep a close eye on the hens' location. I need to take this break so that they can run around a bit. I need to make sure I’m not gone all the time because these creatures depend on me. What I thought might be a hindrance has proven to be a liberty.

Third Unexpected Joy—Femininity Increase: Last year, I went through an unexpected change in my clothing. I started wearing skirts almost every day. I did this because I was wearing my sweatpants way too much. I was living in my sweatpants. I needed a change. Living in your sweatpants and then lounging in your sweatpants isn’t healthy. I needed something comfortable but more professional for the daytime. I also started changing my thoughts about clothing. I wanted to stop looking at my clothes only from the perspective of how skinny I appeared in them, and I wanted to stop caring what was in style. I wanted to wear things that I felt good in and that made me happy. For some reason, skirts were the answer. Long, flowing, full, fun skirts. This wardrobe change helped me have a better attitude in my home and more confidence out in the world.

Along came Astrid, Sif, Sigyn, and Freya, four brown hens in my backyard, all clucking, scratching, dustbathing, and this whole new level of femininity bloomed inside me. Here I am in my long skirt and boots surrounded by my hens and I’m feeling all the deep feelings of being tied to the women of the past.

Lo, there do I see my father.
Lo, there do I see my mother,
and my sisters, and my brothers.
Lo, there do I see the line of my people,
Back to the beginning!

Lo, they do call to me.
They bid me take my place among them,
In the halls of Valhalla!
Where the brave may live forever!

-The Thirteenth Warrior

It’s hard to put into words. Part of it is that women are often compared to chickens, and I get that now. Chickens are so feminine, with both our good and bad traits. They bicker, nag, and scold, and get huffy. They preen. They are easily startled and frightened by every new thing. They are noisy and proud of every egg they lay. They do everything together even when they are annoyed at each other. They’re also brave, curious, smart, and gentle. They do seem to have a personification of femininity.

There is also the provision side. Sarah and I talked about that in our podcast episode a bit. I tend them and they help me tend my home. We have a mutually beneficial relationship. As a homemaker, I want to take care of the things that help me. From my kitchen to my washer to my hens, these are my tools, my handmaids. These are ways that I turn my husband’s hard-earned income into our comfort and provision.

When I stand outside in my long skirt with my hens around me, I feel this deep-seated, strong sense of femininity. I feel confident and ready to defend my home. I feel calm and tender, filled with a willingness to gather those I love in close and build them up. I feel delighted, like the joy of sunrise. Having hens has brought all these wonderful feelings of femininity out.

I was excited about having chickens. I was thrilled to take my four nieces and my sister with me to go get them. I freaked out over Sif’s first egg and the shift from pets to producing pets. I have loved raising them from babies to adults. They are relatively well-behaved and friendly. I didn’t know the unexpected, intangible benefits the hens would bring. I didn’t anticipate how they would warm up our home and yard. I didn’t anticipate the calm slowing down of life they would require that I’m so happy to give to them. I didn’t anticipate the fountain of femininity that they would produce in my own heart.

Hearthkeepers, let this be a warning to all of you, chickens are a much greater blessing than I ever thought they would be. They have proven as useful as a beautiful kitchen, good food, fresh flowers, comforting lamps, and good bedding. They have blessed my home and made my home more homey. They might do the same for you. (Mwhahahahah!)

I’m so thankful that even in the darkness of 2024 (it’s been a really hard year) the Lord sent me some light in a completely unexpected way.

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