New Year's Eve, I arrived at the farm bright and early—it was cold and brisk. I’ll be honest, I was a little nervous being on the farm alone since usually I just assist the other team members with the animals. During the winter break, we each chose days to cover chores. Winter mornings on the farm have a certain kind of enchantment. Honestly, I find it profoundly grounding. After I parked, I looked over to the northern pasture, and saw the sheep waiting for my next move. I hopped out of my truck and a conversation ensued—a type of call and response took place—“baa…baa” rung from the flock. “I’ll be there in a minute” was my response. I put my MukLuks on and grabbed my gloves.
The first stop on my morning rounds was the chickens. I grabbed a couple of empty buckets and filled them with water from the well room. I proceed to carry them to the end of the lower barn and through the back doors toward the coop. As I approached, the soft clucking of the hens, and a loud rooster crow greeted me. As I opened the door, they flocked over to greet me. Some pecked at my boots, others were interested in my gloves as I bent over to grab the water bin. I headed back outside, cleaned and refilled their water, lifted the heavy bag of crushed oyster shells, and organic grain pellets and headed back into their coop. They watched me carefully, as I filled the hanging feeders. I collected their eggs from the nesting boxes, a few hens were still laying but I grabbed all the visible eggs. Counting as I place the eggs in the bucket, I barely fill it half way. Did you know that egg production is drastically reduced during the winter months? That fun fact is obvious now, but something I never considered. Before I left, I added fresh pine shavings to the nesting boxes and noticed the door open. I ran outside to see one hen enjoying her freedom. I attempted to grab her, but she ran faster than Usain Bolt! No exaggeration. I tried for over half an hour to catch her, luring her with food, slowly walking up to her and pretending I wasn’t trying to grab her. I gave up once I spotted the sheep gathered at the fence watching me. I couldn’t help but laugh and wonder what they were thinking.
After the chicken fiasco, I removed a few layers of clothing to avoid overheating. I headed to the upper barn to grab three bales of hay. I slid them down the stairs. I headed to one of the indoor stalls where two known escape artists are temporarily housed. I grabbed the other two bales and headed outside to the field. Carefully, I climbed over the fence trying not to fall, then I reached over and grabbed a bale. I let the sheep know I appreciated their patience as I walked to the feeders, sheep following me. They know their routine well. I got nudged a few times as I struggled to lift the 40 pound bale over the top of the feeder. After filling both feeders I took a group selfie and headed back to fill their water. I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Sheep have a calming presence, and spending time with them always feels like a balm for the soul.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest—Literally!
When I wast done with the sheep and I remembered “someone” who needed to be reunited with her sisters. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement by the winter chicken coop. I had an escapee to catch! I was soon grateful that no one was around to witness the savvy chicken outrun me. Another half hour passed—score: chicken 2, Tracy 0. I decided to call in a favor, and I’m glad I did because no one would've believed me. This “chick” refused to be caught. She was quick, nimble and an expert in parkour. Willow agreed to help me and witnessed the hen’s persistence. We had to chase her around the yard, through 10 foot tall dried sunchoke stalks, and around a small roofed hut. Oh and chickens do fly! Not far or for long, but they do fly. Finally, with Willow's help we caught her and got her back in with her sisters.

Reflections on the Day
When the main chores were done, I took a moment to enjoy the sense of satisfaction. Working on the farm is both humbling and rewarding. The work is never-ending, but it’s deeply fulfilling. I was reminded of the simple pleasures that come from living in harmony with the land along side of our four-legged and winged relatives. I am so glad I was able to experience the time alone on the farm.
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