|Approaching my lap|
I knew that I had to clean out the coop. In my mad rush, I accomplished this very quickly yet I could not help but notice that the chickens were needing some attention. They missed me this past week. In typical fashion, Oyster Cracker came over. As I sat on the stoop of the run door, she nestled and tucked her head in between my knees. I scooped her up. She immediately sat there in my lap and snuggled. She shook her head and tried to bury it into my elbow, arm pit and underneath my neck; she could not get close enough. There we sat together for a few moments and then I lifted her up and placed her on the floor of the run. No sooner, she returned and asked to be held again. So it went, six more times! Finally, I gave in and just decided to hold her. She needed me and I think I needed what was about to happen next.
I took some deep breaths and could suddenly smell the fire from a wood burning stove in the cool crisp air. I could feel it filling my lungs and could feel myself exhaling the week's demands. I held her feathers and admired them, all unique yet forming the most delicate blanket of downy softness, her heart beating rapidly and her breast bone tucked in the palm of my hand. I listened and could hear the leaves rustling in the trees and some crows yelling in the distance. We sat there for about 20 minutes together, just content to be with each other. I think she might have even taken a nap. This was the longest time that we spent together. Oyster Cracker had reminded me about taking a minute to breathe, to clear my mind and to allow myself stolen moments like this to just do nothing. Doing nothing turned out to be just what I needed.
Photo Credit: Tilly's Nest