News from the homestead: Beginnings and endings

This past month has been filled with a bustle of activity at Wittbrich Acres. It’s been a time filled with all the newness spring brings to the homestead along with an unexpected heartbreak.

My loyal rooster Colonel woke us with his rich, insistent crow early in the morning on a gusty May day. It started out like so many other days here, a symphony of early morning greetings being led by Colonel and supported with the resonate responses from Norman and Bingo. Those callings from one rooster to another mix with the constant clucking from the hens and are sounds that have become part of our daily waking ritual. But the music of our morning is different now. After discovering that a massive tumor on Colonel’s preening gland had ruptured and was beyond the vets ability to aid, we had to say a sorrowful goodbye and express our gratitude to the leader of our flock.

I never would have expected to come to a point in my life where a chicken would become such a loyal and consistent friend. But the Colonel and I came to be together as part of a transaction and we learned and grew together through all the changes for both of us.

If not for Wittbrich Acres, I would have never had Colonel and he will forever stand as a symbol of leadership, grace, patience, sacrifice and loyalty. I will not forget his lessons of leadership and how he watched over the flock day and night. I will not forget how he would wait outside the coop in the evening until all the hens were safely inside–and if any were missing, he would find them and bring them home. I will treasure having watched him wait to eat until the hens had first dibs and he often went without because the choice bits went to others. I will miss his gallant stature presiding over the chicken yard, watchful and steady. And I will miss how he stood up for me in the early days against an aggressive Norman who took longer to accept me as the new owner. When Norman would posture and charge at me, Colonel would step into the fray and ensure Norman inflected no harm to the newbie.

He was patient with me as I learned my way around the hen house, and how to care for the flock. He would watch me intently from his top rung of the roosting bars and as I went about my chores, I’d check in with him to make sure I was living up to his expectations. I swear sometimes he would give me a slight bow acknowledging my efforts however clumsy they were. We grew together into a new way of living. Every night as I close the coop, I express gratitude to the hens for their hard work and the roosters for their protections. Colonel was always the last I would thank before securing the coop and turning it over to him to rule. He was my big boy, and I’ll miss him.

In the days following his death, I could already see a change in the yard. The “original group” hens — those who we inherited as part of the property purchase and therefore the longest with the Colonel quietly gathered together around the dusting tire where he typically held court. They were oddly quiet, casting those crazy dinosaur eyes this way and that looking for their fallen leader. There was no pecking at each other, just a procession of hens suffering a loss. Colonel’s favorite lady friend took over his spot on the roosting bar that night. Bingo, now a year old and regal, has stepped up to the alpha position while Norman still leads from behind in his own unique way, a sentinel always on the lookout for threats.

Even as we suffered this loss, we welcomed eight new chicks. Four chicks were hatched out by our broody hen, aptly named Mamasita. She was sitting on eight eggs but after only four hatched, we replaced the unhatched eggs with purchased chicks and she readily adopted them as her own. She has done a stellar job as a new mama and is handling all the tender care, lessons, and warmth needed by chicks.

We also successfully installed our three hives of honeybees. This year, I opted for three different breeds to see how each performs through the nectar flow and subsequent dearth when resources are scant and many hives weaken. I’m also trying some new things in the apiary that I hope will lead to stronger, healthier bees who can survive through next winter. Yes, planning for next winter is already on my mind and ensuring the colony is strong and healthy is a perpetual task.

Meanwhile, my garden (ahem…weeds) are taking hold, mulch and garden soil is piled high waiting for weather that’s actually conducive for working outside and actually getting some planting done. And life in it’s wonderous cycles continues at Wittbrich Acres.

Thanks for reading!