Balancing Freedom with Safety
We have 5 chickens.
Three weeks ago, we had 8.
Last week, we had 7.
Earlier this week, we had 6.
But today, we have 5.
Our chickens live in a beautiful little repurposed gazebo. They are friendly and sweet and happy. They make excited little noises to greet us when we come by.
We've had chickens for two years, and I've never really wanted to let them out of that gazebo to free range... because I was afraid of hawks, fox, and coyote. I love our little chickens, and the thought of losing them scared me too much to take the risk.
But about six weeks ago, we decided to let them have some time outside during the day.
The chickens started to happily explore, eating bugs and scratching at dirt. They invaded our garden and snuck green beans and lettuce. They explored the woods, joyfully hiding under branches and behind trees.
But at dinner time, when Tyler and Jennie came out with their feed bucket, they always ran back to the gazebo with a happy little bounce- to eat their grain, and to say hi to their people.
Until they didn't.
A few weeks back, one of our smaller chickens went missing. We looked everywhere for her, but sadly assumed a predator had carried her off. The kids cried. I considered not letting them out to walk around anymore- but decided to err on the side of freedom, because that freedom made the chickens so happy.
Three weeks went by without incident, until Monday night. Tyler came darting into the house after dinner, yelling that he and Jennie could not find one of our older chickens. "We looked everywhere. She's gone."
When we got to the gazebo, Jennie was standing over a small pile of feathers. "She's dead," she said simply, gathering the feathers in her pocket.
Tyler sighed heavily. "That's farm life, I guess," he said, and sadly walked toward the gazebo to feed the rest of the flock. "I'm sorry for your loss," I heard him quietly tell the other birds as he pet them on their backs.
I stared at my children, and thought about locking the chickens in the gazebo and never letting them out again. I was tired of having them snatched up from under us. But I also knew how much happiness is tied up in their freedom...
So we let the chickens out one more time the next morning. And lost another.
This morning, the chickens are locked up in their little white gazebo like Rapunzel- not as happy, but much more safe.
With chickens, with children, with ideas... It's such a struggle- the balance between letting go and holding tight. So we take chances, or we overprotect, or we overthink... But we always do the best we know how.
Life has shown us that imagined risk certainly holds us back... But when there is an obvious predator in the midst, a locked gazebo is the best option.