Chicken Obsessed on ChickenReview.com

Today’s post is an article I wrote for the Chicken Review website: Chicken Obsessed.

Surprisingly enough, they added a few sentences to my article. Can you spot them? Scavenger hunt!

Check it out, and leave a comment if you so desire.

Thanks for visiting my blog!

Aarrrr! I'm a pirate!

Aarrrr! I’m a pirate!

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Feathery Little Therapists

There is something amazing about nature, especially animals. I’ve always felt a spiritual connection with them. They’re simple; they make sense. Sometimes, I think they are smarter than people.

Job 12:7-10 (The Message)

“But ask the animals what they think—let them teach you;
let the birds tell you what’s going on.
Put your ear to the earth—learn the basics.
Listen—the fish in the ocean will tell you their stories.
Isn’t it clear that they all know and agree
that God is sovereign, that he holds all things in his hand—
Every living soul, yes,
every breathing creature?”

Growing up, we would occasionally raise a calf to sell at the livestock auction. The four of us kids would take turns getting up early before school, mixing a huge bottle of formula, and feeding it in the big red barn. When I was in a bad mood, I’d sit in the stall and talk to the calf. It was great therapy.

Time to burp the baby!

Time to burp the baby!

We would sometimes buy steer from the livestock auction and feed them out for beef. We named one of them Stanley. He would lie down in the corral, and my brother and I would sit on his back. He’d stand up slowly…he did everything slowly…and walk into the barn. He was also a great listener.

What's bothering you? You can tell me.

What’s bothering you? You can tell me.

Now, I have 13 feathery little therapists. Each morning, I intend to quickly feed and water them and get to work around the house. But I always spend more time with them than planned. Same thing in the evenings. My husband says I spoil them, but they deserve it. After my oldest son said something hurtful to me, I sat with the chickens until my mood was better. They always know just what to say.

Those cicadas are louder than Buffy!

Soon, we’ll have cattle, goats, and bees on our little farm. (Lord willing and the fence gets built.) I may never be able to leave the house again, but at least I’ll be sane and smiling.