in an era demanding resourcefulness, ingenuity and resilience

in an era demanding resourcefulness, ingenuity and resilience such that we may well doubt we possess, i find great hope in witnessing the life force that we call the mothering instinct. our sweet, determined hen, frances, will be glad to say more on the subject.

frances is an olive egger, with the fluffy cheeks of her mother, an easter egger (blue eggs!), the fluffy pantaloons of her father, an orpington (pink eggs!), charming in temper and adventurous by nature. in laying her eggs she takes after her mother in keen imagination. where charlotte saw a scrap wire stash behind the barn as a stronghold for her nest, frances reimagined this antique spade as a safe corner for hers.

not just any spade; one left leaning below an overhang that leads to the rainwater catchment. a spade within a patio garden, fenced off from poultry, gated by a temporary hash of scavenged wire and fences. a refuge.

each day, frances silently enters the garden through some secret gap. unlike other interlopers, she doesn’t reveal herself by giving into digging amongst rich, protected soils and delicate plants, no. she quietly tucks herself into the ivy behind the old spade, still, focused on laying another pale green egg. she’s a hen with an appreciation for colour.

it’s only after laying that we know she’s at it again, that our fencing is hopeless against such determination. she flies clear over the top of our constructions, hollering as a hen does to draw attention from their eggs to herself, then struts about the garden, singing about it.

most hens might not attempt it, but the new life held in those eggs is highly motivating to creative problem-solving. we’ve seen mother hens break into kitchen gardens the rest of the flock ignored, teaching chicks to use plant pots and pickets to launch themselves in.

the mothering energy is adventurer, explorer, no meek forager. she is ardent. she provides. she is quick-witted, alert, inventive, as if in fostering new life she has redoubled herself.

so too we must now become our own greater selves, in service to regenerating life for all.

frances is now sitting on a clutch of eggs from a dear neighbour’s flock; if you too want to raise chicks with a broody hen, watch my long-form film:

broody hen

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May 20, 2025

welcome to the monthly matinée, a retrospective of the appleturnover long-form films. next up is broody hen.

just now on the farm, our eldest broody hen, emily, is peacefully moving toward the end of her life. it’s so hard to say good bye. she raised so many of our flock and is the daughter of our beloved pepper hen, who was raised in the kitchen by my little kids, way back. nearby, frances hen, who raised chicks last year for the first time, is brooding contentedly, tended by the new generation. we all cannot wait to meet the new chicks, due sometime around the solstice.

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