When the Rooster Crows

A symbol of resiliency.......

When we got six baby chicks, I imagined a charming little flock of hens scratching around the yard, leaving us a few fresh eggs every morning. I did not imagine three of them would grow up to be roosters. Apparently, my chicken intuition needs some fine-tuning and to accept that chicken pickin’ isn’t an exact science.

Now, instead of peaceful morning clucking, we have a chorus of crowing. Not one proud rooster calling up the dawn like a scene from a country calendar, but three of them, sometimes in unison, competing, answering, one-upping each other like feathered opera singers. An unwanted and unplanned cock fight. It wakes me up at sunrise and it sounds like a barnyard battle of the bands. A cacophony of chaos.

And yet, there’s something undeniably grounding about it. The rooster’s crow is both absurd and profound. It’s the same sound that’s greeted the morning for thousands of years; a small but timeless reminder that life keeps turning, no matter how chaotic things feel. Before alarm clocks, before cell phones, before the endless scroll of notifications, it was the rooster who told us when to wake, when to move, when to begin again.

The call of the rooster is the call to return. To rhythm. To the land. To what’s real, tangible, and grounding.

Life with animals has a way of pulling us out of our heads and back into the world. They remind us that care is a daily act: feed, water, muck, repeat…. and that this rhythm is what keeps us alive. Humans have tended animals for most of our history. It’s an old relationship, one of reciprocity and respect, even if the modern world has done its best to forget it.

We need them, not only for food but for connection. A fresh egg still warm from the nest carries more than nutrition; it carries vitality. Meat from animals raised with care offers something deeper than protein. It offers integrity, life-force, something that our bodies recognize and need for survival.

Somewhere along the way, our food became industrialized, our soil depleted, our meals rushed. Corporate farming and monocultures have stripped our food of diversity and stripped our guts of resilience. The microbiome of the soil mirrors our own…..when one weakens, so does the other. The result is food that fills but doesn’t nourish, and bodies that crave but never feel satisfied. We have become over-fed, and under-nourished.

This is why small farms matter. Why local food matters. Why the rooster’s crow matters.

Supporting small farms builds resilience not just in our communities but in ourselves. It keeps us connected to the pulse of the land and the people who still tend it. Each carton of eggs from the neighbor down the road, each basket of vegetables from a farm stand, each purchase that bypasses the corporate chain; these are small acts of reclamation and resistance. They are ways of saying, I choose connection over convenience. I choose nourishment over numbers.

When the rooster crows each morning, he’s not just announcing the dawn. He’s declaring continuity. He’s reminding us that there’s something worth getting up for (besides coffee); that life, messy and noisy as it may be, goes on.

Maybe we can take a cue from him. Maybe we can wake each morning with a little more strength, a little more consistency, a little more devotion to our flock, whatever form that takes.

So let the roosters crow. Let them announce the day in their wild, unapologetic way. And if you can, go outside and listen. Feel that sound ripple through the cold morning air. It’s the sound of the old world still beating, still alive beneath our modern pace.

Come back to your roots as much as you can. And if you can’t raise the chickens yourself, support the people who do.

A Simple Morning Ritual

Crack two fresh eggs into a bowl. Whisk them slowly, with intention, and listen for the first stirrings of morning around you. Add a pinch of salt, maybe a dash of cream. Cook them gently in a pan with butter until just set: soft, golden, and nourishing.

Eat slowly. Feel gratitude for the animals, the land, and the hands that sustain you. The earth that sustains you. Take one deep breath before you begin the day. Let it remind you that you are part of the same rhythm…..steady, resilient, alive.

~Sara