This weekend it was finally time to integrate the Valentine girls with the older flock.
I had been putting it off for weeks, if I’m honest. Partly because life had been rather heavy recently. We’d had a bereavement in the family and little Sapphy had been very unwell. Sadly, Sapphire died a couple of weeks ago, and I think after that I just didn’t quite have the energy for another stressful situation.
But the Valentine girls, Venus, Aphrodite, Freya and Ishtar, have been with us for almost three months now, and there comes a point where you simply have to move forwards. Chickens, rather inconveniently, refuse to remain in emotional limbo forever.
Blending flocks is never straightforward. Chickens are wonderful, funny, affectionate little creatures, but they are also tiny feathered velociraptors with a strict social hierarchy. The “pecking order” isn’t just a saying, it’s a very real thing, and establishing it can sometimes look quite brutal.
The girls have shared a boundary in the run for months. They’ve free ranged together plenty of times too, where the Valentines have had lots of space to escape if needed, but even so, I was anxious about fully opening that dividing door.
Ishtar in particular had me worried. She is tiny, timid and impossibly sweet. The sort of hen who jumps onto your knee for a cuddle without invitation. She completely has my heart, and I dreaded seeing her bullied by the older girls.
But they couldn’t stay separated forever.
So on Saturday morning, I armed myself appropriately for what I expected to be several hours of conflict management. I grabbed a flask of tea, a good book and an unreasonable quantity of chicken treats, and settled myself in the garden prepared to referee arguments and protect the vulnerable.
The weather was beautiful, which at least made the vigil pleasant.
The girls wandered around free ranging together while I scattered their favourite snacks everywhere, making sure there was plenty for all of them. Ishtar, true to form, spent some time perched happily on my knee having cuddles entirely oblivious to the political negotiations apparently happening around her.
And then something rather unexpected happened.
Nothing.
No dramatic fights. No bullying. No chaos. No intervention required from me whatsoever.
After a few hours, one by one, they all wandered back into the run. Normally I would have shut the divider between the two sides, but this time I just… left it open.
And they simply got on with it.
Some explored together. Some scratched around independently. Several decided the whole thing was exhausting and settled down for a communal rest. I sat watching them for quite a while waiting for trouble to start, but honestly, it never did.
It struck me how often we do this in life.
We spend so much time paralysed by what might happen that we never give ourselves the opportunity to discover what actually will happen. We build entire futures in our heads based on fear, anxiety and worst-case scenarios, convincing ourselves that standing still is somehow safer than taking the risk.
Sometimes caution is wise, of course. Sometimes fear genuinely protects us.
But sometimes fear simply keeps us stuck.
We postpone conversations. Delay decisions. Stay in unhappy situations. Avoid opportunities. Wait until we feel “ready”, as though confidence arrives first and action follows afterwards. In reality, it’s usually the other way around.
Most growth feels uncomfortable at the beginning. Most change carries uncertainty. And most of the frightening scenarios we invent never materialise at all.
I had spent weeks imagining disaster amongst the hens. Meanwhile, the chickens themselves had apparently moved on emotionally long before I had. Tiny creatures with brains the size of walnuts demonstrating better adaptability than the human sitting in the garden catastrophising with a flask of Yorkshire Tea.
There’s probably a lesson in that.
So if you’re standing on the edge of something right now, whether that’s a difficult conversation, a new role, a change in direction or simply taking the next small step forward, maybe this is your reminder.
Open the door.
The worst rarely happens. And sometimes, if you’re very lucky, peace has been waiting on the other side all along.
Chicken Nuggets 