Watching Clouds Change
Earlier this year, The Girls became six.
Ginger and Nutmeg joined the flock and life at the bottom of the garden changed too. We upgraded the setup at the bottom of the garden with a bigger walk-in run, a dedicated woodchip area, new perches and, because apparently every flock deserves one, a mirror ball.
There was excitement, curiosity and a little uncertainty too.
Like most animals, chickens have their own rhythms and relationships, and introducing Ginger and Nutmeg brought a few weeks of pecking-order politics. We slowed things down and gave everybody time to adjust.
They could see each other, complain about each other and make their feelings known. They just could not poke each other.
Eventually things settled and a new rhythm formed.
Earlier in the year there were four.
Then there were six.
Recently, there became five.
We unexpectedly lost Cloud.
Looking back now, there had been little things that had caught our attention beforehand. Egg production had slowed, we had a colder spell of weather, and one of The Girls had become broody.
Little things.
The sort of things you notice without really knowing whether they mean anything at all.
And that matters.
Not because every change means something is wrong.
But because Dog Listening has quietly taught us something much bigger than dogs.
Awareness.
Noticing patterns.
Paying attention to small changes before we understand what they might mean.
Thinking about how our own actions, environments and routines can shift balance around us.
Cloud was always easy to like.
She had a wonderfully oversized fluffy comb and seemed to quietly fit wherever she went.
No drama. No fuss. The others always seemed comfortable around her.
Just Cloud being Cloud.
The flock changed again after that.
Someone slept somewhere different.
Someone stepped forward.
Someone hesitated.
The balance shifted quietly and slowly settled into something new.
Animals seem remarkably good at accepting change.
Humans often fight it. We analyse it, replay things and look for explanations.
Animals simply seem to acknowledge what is in front of them and continue.
The Girls did what animals often do.
They came out the next morning, inspected the garden for important chicken business, complained about breakfast and quietly began finding a new rhythm.
Earlier in the year there were four.
Then there were six.
Now there are five.
Watching Clouds change matters.
Russ
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