Day 19 Bed Wetting

My chicks have reverted from teenage to toddler.

The problem? Wet beds.

In all fairness, the problem lies not with the chicks but with the waterers. I cannot for the life of me figure out why gallons of water keep leaking all over the floor of the brooder. I've had many theories and once I think I've figured it out for sure, then another avenue of leaking presents itself. It's crazy making to feel like you've done everything right: clean the waterers thoroughly, fill them up so they are nice and heavy and will have less of a tendency to tip over, position them just in the right place so the chickens are less prone to bump into them when they're acting out - and yet you go out to a steamy bed of wet bedding. Gee. It's the perfect metaphor for how I feel about life sometimes. You do everything right, try to "be good," stay organized, be prepared and not get in the way of others and "bam!" bad things still happen. That, I guess, is when you keep going anyway. It's a faith thing for sure. And in my case, a growing love of rural living. I love the process, the idea that I will one day be eating what I've taken so many pains to raise. The whole notion of a start to finish food supply pulls me in. I told Kent the other day that when I saw tiny peaches on the peach trees, I was almost surprised. I always seem to be taken aback when something actually works... So why bother? It's the hope and the dreams that something wonderful will come from a tiny spark of an idea. It's like going to a fabric store and coming home with a whole bag of fabric. That fabric might sit on the shelf from here to eternity, but a big part of that process is sometimes just the idea that, yes, you CAN imagine something going from nothing to something.The whole idea that I might possibly be able to grow more vegetables than my city tomatoes, basil and lettuce...that I could actually start with a baby chick and later prepare Chicken Parmesan with my own chickens...wow! Willa Cather expressed this kind of contentment perfectly in "O Pioneers!" when she wrote: "A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of things more than the things themselves."

So, last Friday Harrison and I spent a good couple of hours pulling out most of the bedding and replacing it with dry leaves and more wood shavings. It was a big job. I won't go into the exasperating detail, just trust me. It was a process.

Just when I thought I had it figured out, I took one last look at my little feathered friends last night around 11 pm and - you guessed it - one gallon waterer was completely empty. Wet bedding. Tired farmer. Throw in a lost cat for good measure. An hour later, I was lying in bed, praying for no leaking, praying that the coyotes wouldn't find one big, black cat too tasty and I finally fell asleep. This morning I woke up to good news. William the cat was at the back door and the waterers had apparently not leaked. I said a prayer of thanks and did the only prudent thing I could think of. I removed one of the waterers and decided to just stick with one.

No use tempting fate.