Lessons from Nature: Singing After Tragedy 🎶

this is the chicken story I told you about—it reminds me of you (and so many others on here) and how y’all keep doing the next healthy thing in the face of difficulty 😊👇

I had a lot to learn as a first time chicken mama. We built our chicks a spacious coop, thinking that would help keep them safe from predators (we now free range). And we enjoyed watching them transform from little fuzzy babies into beautiful, mature chickens—each with their own unique personalities and plumage. We could just hold out our arms and they would fly up on us. They were like new little friends. We loved those chickens.

Then one day, I was teaching my son taekwondo to help him keep up with his class. It was time for the bo staff, so we stepped outside. When we did, we discovered some dogs had dug inside the coop and were attacking our chickens! I have a fear of dogs, especially multiple, large dogs that I do not know. But I ran over to that coop and hopped in, bo staff in hand. I didn’t hit them, because they were just being dogs. But I did scream. A lot. And as I put myself between the dogs and my chickens, I briefly surveyed the damage. I saw feathers everywhere. Two chickens laying lifeless on the ground (I later learned some chickens faint). And others were clearly hurt (I also learned chickens can live through most anything).

So there I was, stuck in the coop, with stray dogs—armed with my son’s bo staff, of all things—fending them off. And the worst part was the dogs couldn’t find their way back out. Getting the dogs out the door wasn’t an option, because we built it as a half door, where you step over it to enter. And they couldn’t find the hole they dug. My boys, who were not able to comprehend what was happening, wanted to join me in the funny dance amongst the feathers, dogs, and chickens. Thankfully, I was able to get my oldest to go get my phone. I called a neighbor for help and he came and lifted the dogs out of the coop, as he had no success getting them back through the hole they dug. I found all my chickens. Checked them over. They were injured, but alive. Every single one of them.

I sat outside the coop and cried from the stress of the event, as I continued to watch over them. The hens began laying. They had no choice but to lay, because the eggs were already formed. And for those of you who do not know, chickens have an egg song they sing after an egg is laid. They all join in the chorus together and it’s one of the neatest things I’ve ever witnessed raising chickens. Anyways, the hens laid and—this is the part that was so impactful for me that I still remember to this day—they sang. Their little chicken voices were still raspy from all the squawking they did during the attack. But each sang their part. There, amongst their feathers on the ground. The wounds on their bodies. They sang. Just like they always do. And it was the most beautiful chicken song I’ve ever heard.

I thought, “Well, if the chickens are already back to their day after what they’ve been through, I can get back to mine.” And I did. I’ll never forget that. It goes in with what I’ve heard

@Dr. Heath

teach about behavioral deactivation and how it’s best to keep doing the healthy thing, especially after tragedy strikes. And it also highlights the importance of healing in community with others—as we each “sing” our part. I wanted to share this story of how nature taught these things to me ❤️

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