CHANGE is a fact of life.
If we haven’t learned it by now and learned how to adapt to it, we would surely break from resistance sooner or later. This holds true with animals as well. I am always amazed at how well farm animals in particular adapt to change so easily. At least, they make it look easy. If they could only write a book, I’m sure we’d hear the rest of the story.
But for now, it will be told by this author from a bird’s eye view.
Olive, our little black hen hatched here on the farm three years ago, has undergone some changes of her own. The beginning of her story is related in an earlier post in “The Peculiar Life of Olive” which you can read or re-read HERE.
She still lays green eggs, only slightly less olive than before. She still lays them in her own personal nest box on the carport - nowhere near the chicken coop. And ocasionally she continues to crow just like a rooster, but much less often now. She still knows no boundries when it comes to free-ranging or tilling flower gardens or wherever she decides to meander each day. It’s nothing short of a miracle she’s still with us.
This is a picture of our Sugar Maple tree in the back yard that she perched in for 3 years. Two years ago, about a forth of it was lost in a thunderstorm. (THAT post is HERE)
Olive continued to call it home each and every night, come rain or driving wind or freezing temperatures. Two weeks ago, we had this tree trimmed back to about a third of it’s original size because we were slowly loosing it limb by limb. According to the tree service, it looked like one part of it had been struck by lightening at some point. Which is a good indication of why we lost a main branch two years ago and why it’s been doing poorly since. However, we were told we might be able to save it now, and it stands a good chance of gaining some of it’s growth back. Time will tell.
In the meantime as you can see, Olive’s branch is missing. It was one of the lower ones
and couldn’t be saved. So, back to adjusting to life’s changing tides. Olive never missed a beat. I have no idea where she spent her first night “away from her branch”. She couldn’t be found. I heard an owl hooting in the middle of the night as if it were warning something of impending danger. Then I heard a strange noise, a cry of some sort just for an instant, and then dead silence. (Windows were left open that night for fresh air.) I was immediately out of bed, flashlight in hand and heading for the door - as one of us has done so many times before in the middle of the night to see who was after our farm creatures. I saw nothing, heard nothing. In my heart I felt Olive was gone from us, probably picked off by a coon or something in the woods behind the house or maybe even the owl.
And yet, the next morning she was out there by the chicken yard as usual waiting for breakfast in all her beauty and charm. How many lives does a chicken really have? And where was she that night? She may have learned a lesson from the wise old owl who was warning someone of impending danger, because since that very night she has learned to adapt in a very dramatic way. Yes, she has.
Olive has been socializing in the chicken yard with the other hens and rooster, eating breakfast and dinner with them IN the chicken yard, not outside the fence, and I’m happy to report that dispite her (still) knowing no boundries as she comes and goes over the fence, she now roosts with the hens IN the henhouse every night. And if that’s not enough to cause a gasp, she even lays her eggs – for the first time ever – in the nest boxes in the chicken coop!
Olive gets a Blue Ribbon! And the nest box on the carport has to go – it’s been empty ever since.
Yes, I think we can all learn to adjust to change even if it’s not the solution we are looking for. In today’s world I think they call it “the new norm”. Olive knows all about it.
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