Mornings often begin with the aroma of coffee and the sounds of nature. As gravel crunches underfoot, a chorus of clucks, squawks, and quacks fills the air. Before the door is fully opened, a flock of chickens and ducks rushes out, eager for breakfast. "Good morning, everyone," is the cheerful greeting that accompanies the scattering of feed.

This daily routine began with three rescued hens. An acquaintance of my partner had saved a group of chickens from poor living conditions. These hens, less than a year old, had been confined with no space to move or sunlight to enjoy. Wanting to help, I took in three of them, naming them Mary, Minerva, and Rhubarb. We built a coop and provided them with sand and grass to explore. Over time, they regained their feathers and learned to bask in the sun.

After a year, my partner and I moved to a small hobby farm, which included a flock of ducks and laying hens. This marked my official entry into the world of backyard chickens. While many people are drawn to the idea of keeping chickens, the practice can be contentious. Some community members express concerns about noise, public health, and proper care. Others appreciate the benefits, such as fresh eggs and the opportunity to teach families about food systems.

Growing up in a suburb, I had always loved animals. My family had various pets, but I had never cared for livestock. The initial trio of hens sparked a passion for chickens and transformed my understanding of love and loss. Chickens are curious creatures. When allowed to roam freely, they explore their surroundings and interact with their owners. I can identify which hens are friends and which prefer solitude. They often crowd into a single nesting box, despite having multiple options, and announce their egg-laying with a distinctive clucking.

Caring for chickens has deepened my connection to nature and heightened my awareness of the seasons. I witness firsthand where my food comes from, and I find moments of mindfulness while watching them dust bathe or peck at my shoelaces.

However, the experience also brings grief. The first hen I lost was Rhubarb, who fell ill shortly after we adopted her. Despite seeking veterinary help, she could not be saved. The challenges of keeping farm animals safe and healthy became apparent. Over the years, we lost hens to illness and predators. High-production laying hens are particularly vulnerable to reproductive issues and cancers. Various animals, including foxes and raccoons, pose constant threats.

Each season brings losses, whether due to age, illness, or accidents. I have managed to nurse some back to health, but the hardest losses are those that occur due to my mistakes. Earlier this year, a mink infiltrated our coop, resulting in the deaths of several hens and injuries to our ducks. After addressing one issue, we faced another when a heat wave caused fatalities due to inadequate ventilation.

Every loss brings a wave of guilt and sadness. The saying goes, "When you have livestock, you have deadstock." As an animal lover, this reality is difficult to accept. Yet, through these experiences, I am learning to navigate grief and embrace the lessons it brings.

Five years later, the original trio is gone. Minerva and Mary succumbed to cancer and illness in the past two years. However, during their time with us, they enjoyed a life filled with tall grass, fallen apples, and sunbathing. My backyard chickens serve as a daily reminder that joy and heartache coexist. I am grateful for the companionship, entertainment, and valuable lessons they have provided.