By: Jason Tsaddiq
To prevent the older hens from worrying and packing at the new chicks, sometimes, depending on which hen house our broody was in, we would have to move her to another hen house for protection until the chicks were large enough to hold their own.
Thus was the case one day. The mama hen was diligent, never moving from the nest except to sip some water. We were careful to place feed within reach.
One day, as I was tending to another hen house, I thought I heard a tiny little “chirp.” Excited, I strolled over to her little coop and peered inside. I saw no chick. Thinking that I was just too anxious, I busied myself with my duties.
This scenario played out several times. I was confused. I couldn’t see the eggs under her and I couldn’t see any tiny little beaks peeking out from under here. Moving a broody hen too often or too roughly can stress her, causing her to abandon the nest so I hesitated for several days to actually move her and examine the eggs under her.
Then one day, I saw it: a broken egg. Now I knew for sure that there was a chick somewhere. I definitely could hear the chick but couldn’t see it under the mother’s wings.
The next day, I was walking across the yard, headed to care for the chickens and I noticed that the mama was not on her nest and that her head was bobbing up and down and jerking side to side in an unusual pattern. I scrutinized as I walked. Her actions almost looked like she were eating something and was trying to choke it down her throat.
As I drew closer, I noticed long string-like things hanging out the sides of her mouth. My first thought was “spaghetti.” Now, if you’ve never seen a flock of chickens party on spaghetti, your life is not complete! Pasta pretty much has no nutritional value for a chicken but feeding spaghetti to chickens is probably the cheapest clean fun in the whole neighborhood! Do they think they found the mother-lode of all worms? Do they think they are the Warrior of Worm Wars? I don’t know but they are hilarious to watch as they scurry around the chicken yard, spaghetti noodle flapping in the breeze, trying to find a calm place in which to enjoy their banquet.
As I walked closer, thinking about spaghetti, I realized that we had not had spaghetti recently and therefore, would not have had any to give to the chickens. I was the only one who fed the broody so I would have known if she had spaghetti. Usually, chickens don’t save the spaghetti for a rainy day – they eat it immediately.
When I reached the hen house door, I saw more detail of what was in her mouth. In horror, I recognized two scrawny little legs hanging out her mouth, a little body, and a small black and blue beak. Words left me as I realized that she was, and had been, eating her baby chicks. I instantly startled her enough for her to empty her mouth but too much damage had been done. Investigating her nest under the pine shavings gave the story: several broken eggs testified that several chicks had lost their life. She had been destroying her own family.
The unwed mother who was brave enough to confess her sin before the church…..do I talk about her “wicked, wicked ways” behind her back or do I bring her a meal?
That drug addict who seems to enjoy smelling up the back corner of my church auditorium…..have I ever taken him out for breakfast and learned how he landed where he is?
Oh, when the pastor mentioned that one sin, my sin……do I have “roast preacher” for lunch in front of my children and spouse?
That bonus money that came in my check…..did I give it to meet a missionary’s need or did I spend it on my boat, full well knowing that the boat will burn up one day and the missionary’s work is eternal? After all, I earned it, right?
And that soloist who sang in this morning’s service…..did I snicker as I asked another church member after the service, “Who told her that she could even carry a tune?”?
Did I roll my eyes when the visiting evangelist said, “The Christian army is the only one who shoots its own soldiers.”?