Life and Death — At Some Point Homestead

On top of a very busy, spinning plates on fire, juggling porcupines kind of day...I came home to find a dead hen in the coop. I put my gloves on, grabbed the shovel and buried her. After chores, researched what could have possibly happened. No signs of illness, no signs of injury. She was sitting in the coop last night, unwilling to move from her spot, but that is not strange behavior for my hens if they are trying to lay or if they are hiding eggs from me (VERY broody breeds!). I then order a heavy duty sanitizer (chicken and other farm life safe)

....and break down into uncontrollable tears. I kept my shit together through collecting her, burying her and then finishing my work. Then the PTSD hits. And the questions of "Did I miss something?" "Could I have prevented this?" run over and over through my mind. While my beautiful partner tells me she needs to get to sleep, and in the background are my racing thoughts of how to keep my clients happy and what tasks lie ahead for me tomorrow, the next day and next week...and if I can really keep up with all of this successfully? Will I be dealing with multiple deaths in the days to come?

Am I failing? Did I fail my hen today? Did I fail my partner today? Did I fail a client today? Are my goats happy? Did my sheep get enough attention? Am I keeping everything on schedule? Is there something I missed? Is there something I'm forgetting?

All the "behind the scenes" activity is on me and in my head.

This life is necessary.

It is messy.

This life is beautiful.

It is chaotic.

This life is admirable.

It is constant, back-breaking work.

This life is fulfilling.

It is confronting death head on.

This IS On top of a very busy, spinning plates on fire, juggling porcupines kind of day...I came home to find a dead hen in the coop. I put my gloves on, grabbed the shovel and buried her. After chores, researched what could have possibly happened. No signs of illness, no signs of injury. She was sitting in the coop last night, unwilling to move from her spot, but that is not strange behavior for my hens if they are trying to lay or if they are hiding eggs from me (VERY broody breeds!). I then order a heavy duty sanitizer (chicken and other farm life safe)

....and break down into uncontrollable tears. I kept my shit together through collecting her, burying her and then finishing my work. Then the PTSD hits. And the questions of "Did I miss something?" "Could I have prevented this?" run over and over through my mind. While my beautiful partner tells me she needs to get to sleep, and in the background are my racing thoughts of how to keep my clients happy and what tasks lie ahead for me tomorrow, the next day and next week...and if I can really keep up with all of this successfully? Will I be dealing with multiple deaths in the days to come?