Sage Words Sunday -Hopes and Dreams

Sage Words Sunday has taken a bit of a break over Yuletide due in main to  lack of time and the enormous amount of goodies already stashed in the pantry. Then suddenly it was New Years Eve and it seemed wrong to face this annual new beginning without seeking some kind of sage direction.


You may remember our choice to extend the Homestead flock by introducing some fertilised eggs  direct from Princess Nikita’s hen haven. Though haphazard in execution, this hopeful choice bore fruit on Saturday as, exactly on cue and as per the ringed day on the calendar, six healthy new Homesteaders pecked their way into this world. That there was a mad dash to relocate them to an abode more altitude-appropriate which may or may not have resulted in some maternal natural selection is just one of those things.

It was a choice undertaken with a huge dollop of hope.


14 thoughts on “Sage Words Sunday -Hopes and Dreams

  1. New chicks, new beginnings. They look gorgeous, and Mama looks very Mama-ish. I always thinks hens are at their dimmest when sitting; they seem to enter a trance or something, but once they’re up and about with a brood of chicks, they seem almost clever Relatively.
    The quote is very a propos this morning, as I head back to work after a week’s holiday,with decisions about the coming year still unmade – fear of making the wrong decisions, and thus dashing hope I suppose. Have I mentioned I dither a lot? 🙂

    • I’m so with you. Fear of getting it wrong can sometimes immobilise my thought processes to the point that I only leap into action when confronted with a nestful of chicks all contemplating the metre-odd drop to certain doom because, in blind pre-Christmas panic, I thought “what the hell” and rammed the eggs under the prospective mothers where they sat rather than take the time to lure them into a more suitable location. Learning curves…blah blah blah…sometimes luck has a lot more to do with it 🙂

    • Dear Sylvia, the mother, was the soul survivor of our first attempt at chick raising last year. The rest of them turned out to be blokes and thus our first real foray into the circle of life as our council bylaws prevent us from having roosters.

  2. Aaah, the patter of tiny feet and the chorus of non-stop cheeping! Congratulations on your new additions. I trust the hen who self selected to be the adoptive mother has proved to be up to the job. I have fond memories of chicks disappearing under the wings of a protective mother keeping danger at bay. It is probably too early, but any hint of which are hens and which are roosters?

    • We’re waiting for the Homestead hen expert to return from holiday and hopefully cast a little light on their gender. I’m blown away by the totally intuitive way the mother is guiding her brood. Today it seems to be Scratching for Bugs 101; she scratches in the dirt, stands back and watches as the chicks pick through what she’s turned over, then repeats…awesome!

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