The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Regenerative Living

Ode to the Rooster January 29, 2017

The Chinese New Year is now being celebrated, and it is once again the Year of the Rooster. I see this as a tremendously positive and powerful sign–a message of light and hope in this time of darkness. In honor of the rooster, I offer two stories that demonstrate how powerful and protective the rooster is–and how the rooster’s energy this year can lend us power and strength to drive back the dark. So now, pull up a chair by the fire, and hear two stories of roosters and their magic.

Painting of Anasazi Rooster

Painting of Anasazi Rooster

As I mentioned a few blog posts ago, a group of us held an all night vigil for the winter solstice.  This is not an easy ritual–it is about 15 hours of darkness, in the cold months of the year. Our ritual started well enough: we had a glorious sunset, a lovely ceremony, a great feast that put warm food in the belling, and music, storytelling and conversation by the fire. That got us from about 5pm till about 11pm, and folks started going home to their warm beds, until only a core group of five of us were still present for the long haul till sunrise at 7:30am. We sat in the hours and hours of darkness with nothing but the fire to keep us company while the Yule Log burned away into coals. The moon continued to come across the sky, ever-so-slowly.

 

In those deep and dark hours, as you are holding vigil, a number of things happen within and without. For one, the time can be altered–the night is much longer than it seems, as if you had been sitting in darkness for days or weeks, not mere hours. You get lost in the darkness of your own thoughts. You wonder, in those deep, dark hours, if the sun will ever return.  The circle grows quiet, and each person battles with his or her own darkness. The darkness seems all encompassing. More than once we asked, silently or to each other, will the sun ever return? Will this long night ever end?  For it is in this darkness that we face our fears, our sadness, and our sorrow. And it is this darkness that can hold so much power over us. This vigil experience parallels, to a large extent, what so many are facing now as darkness seems to be descending upon us culturally.

 

And then, suddenly, close to 4AM, as we were still wrapped in the swirling darkness of the night, a call came out, ringing across the fields. A call that brought us back into our own bodies, back to the presence of our loved ones and the fire–a call that promised the return of the sun. That was the call of the rooster: cock-a-doodle-doo! One of the farm’s roosters, before the sun was anywhere near ready to rise, let us know that everything was going to be alright–for he was here to work his magic and to raise the sun. We heard him, and the inner darkness began to recede. He continued his calls every 15 or 20 or so minutes, letting us know the sun would rise again and he was seeing to it personally. The second rooster on the farm, a tiny fellow with the cutest little high-pitched crow, began his own crowing as we grew closer to the morning rays of light. The two of them, in unison, called up the sun.  All we could do was wait for them to finish their work.

 

As the gray turned to blue and the blue to yellow, the little rooster came down from his tree where he roosts at night and stood on the fence behind us, looking at us with his orange rooster eye, and he crowed and crowed until that sun came up above the mountains. If roosters weren’t there to pull up the sun in the depths of that solstice morning, I am not sure it would be able to rise at all. I thought then, about the millions of roosters across the land bringing up the sun in an ever-moving circle.

Rooster who crows up the sun!

Rooster who crows up the sun!

This experience resonated so powerfully with me partially because these were not the first magical roosters that I had encountered. Although I had raised chickens as a child, and grew up with them as friends at my parent’s homestead, we never had roosters, for fear of what they neighbors would think and their crowing. So we kept hens, and I loved those hens, each and every one of them.  When I came to my new homestead in Michigan seven years ago, I did as we had done before–purchased some day-old peeps, all hens, so that I could have a new chicken flock for companionship, eggs, garden assistance, and most of all, joy.  Roosters hadn’t yet crossed my path, or my mind!

 

My little hens stayed at first in my art studio in a warm large box with straw and a heat lamp. Since it was already summer, they got to go into the garden each day and search for bugs, bathe in the beds, and bask in the summer sun. After two weeks, they grew too large for their box and were moved to a larger area in my garage. Each day, they would get to go outside and enjoy the sun. We continued this pattern as they grew feathers on their wings and tails, and then on their bodies, as their little combs and wattles started to grow red.  Soon, they were like little miniature chickens, running around, enjoying bugs and scratching at the dirt.

The girls when they were young, before the rooster came

The girls when they were young, before the rooster came

It was soon after they moved into their permanent coop at 12 weeks old, that the rooster first came. I spotted him from a distance–a beautiful rooster with large cockle spurs, a gold/orange head, his body giving way to black with bold green and blue highlights and gray feet. He had a magnificent comb and bright orange-yellow eyes. And he saw me, and my little hens, and let out a crow. I had no idea who this rooster was; I had no experiences with roosters. I sat and watched him, and he stood and watched me. The hens crowded behind me, afraid. And in their fear, I realized he must be a scoundrel, not a gentleman.  I told him,”my hens are too young for you! Stay back!” And he listened, but watched them intently.

Beautiful Rooster!

Beautiful Rooster!

Each day as summer turned to fall, the rooster would mysteriously show up.  He never came too close to me, or to the hens, but he stayed at a distance and every so often, let out a glorious crow. With each visit, he inched a little closer to the hens.  But each night, just as mysteriously as he arrived, he vanished down the road, disappearing quite quickly.  Like clockwork, each morning I was awakened with his crowing–there he proudly stood on top of the coop, asking me to let the ladies out. I did so, and watched as they came near him, looking at me with questions in their eyes. I continued to wonder, as before, if he was a gentleman or a scoundrel.

 

I called up my neighbor who had a farm, with many roosters and hens.  He lived in the same direction where the rooster mysteriously disappeared each night.  My neighbor told me, “Yeah, he was mine all right. But he was too gentle and the other roosters kicked him out of the flock in the fall.  Now, he lives in the tree near my house. I can’t believe he’s alive–he spent the whole winter in the tree by himself!” I responded, “Do you want him any longer?” And he said, “If you can catch him, you can keep him. But best of luck catching him–nobody can get close to him, even to feed him! That rooster’s something else.”

 

And so, I knew what my task was to be–wooing this beautiful rooster into the homestead as a permanent addition–after all, he had already made himself at home here on my land, and now I just had to find a way to keep him here. I figured that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so I began to offer tasty morsels of food when he showed up for his daily visit. Eventually, trust grew between us, and he allowed me to get within 10 or 15 feet of him. Trust grew between he and my hens as well, and they began foraging closer together, and they grew to understand that he was going to protect them. But every night, as before, he disappeared down the road. Perhaps this story would be better if he disappeared at the stroke of midnight or turned into a pumpkin or something, but that was not the way of things.

Where is that roo?

Where is that handsome roo?

Eventually, he began coming to me for food, and then I knew I had him. I threw some food into the run of the coop, and in went the rooster and the hens. I quietly closed the gate to the run while they were busy enjoying the food, and then tossed more into the coop itself.  He refused to go in.  I waited. The sun began to set, and he looked at me, knowing if it grew too dark, he couldn’t return to his tree 1/4 mile away.  But then, the hens went into their coop.  He followed them and I locked them all in. The hens piled all into one of the nest boxes and looked at me with a look that said, “You really just locked HIM in here with US?” and I smiled at them and wished them all a good rest.

 

I kept them all in the run for the next few days so that the new roo would see this as home, and after the third day, I let them back out to free range. The real test would be to see how they were getting along and if he ended up back in his tree. He did not, but instead, crowed around the coop four times, once in every direction. A good rooster, indeed.

Coming out of the coop together!

Coming out of the coop together!

I had named each of my chickens different names of beans, in honor of “bean” who was one of my most beloved chickens as a child (she knew her name and came when you called; she once got attacked by the neighbor’s dog and the vet had to put 37 stitches in her and she lived another 4 years!).  Each of the chickens then, was a bean or pulse: Lima, Adzuki, Pinto, and Lentil. And, in honor of a beautiful bean I was growing in the garden that I just harvested for the winter months, I named the rooster Anasazi.

 

The next years of my life were good ones. I quickly began realizing how many hawks we had in MI (never a problem in PA), and Anasazi repeatedly demonstrated his worth.  He would let out a shrill call and the hens would run.  He was, in fact, a gentleman, finding food and calling the hens to him to share it–saving for them always the most tasty grubs and best morsels.  He was not rough with the hens, as some roosters are apt to be.  He danced around them contentedly and put on a show before mating. Once, a neighbor’s dog came for the flock and he threw himself at the dog and then led it far away to keep the hens safe. I started wondering how I ever had got on without a rooster–and the truth is, I would have lost my whole flock that first summer to predators without him.

Dust bath

Dust bath

Anasazi worked magic on the land. When I would go out in the morning to do my daily ritual, Anasazi was there, crowing at each of the four quarters, and once each for above, below, and within. Each time he crowed, he helped protect the land and the homestead, and we were all safer with him there. He helped herd and guide the hens. He would lead the hens into the sacred stone circle, they would forage once around in a circle, and then exit at the appropriate gate. I began to understand the importance of his early morning crows to raise the sun–Anasazi had tremendous power in the sun, but no power in the darkness. He was a being of protection and of the solar current.

 

I grew quite unhappy in Michigan and was contemplating whether to stay or to consider applying for a job in Western PA, the land of my blood and birth. One night, not long after I began considering this, a badger broke into the coop in the darkest hours.  The coop was far enough away from the house that I did not hear what happened and remained sound asleep. But in the morning, I found the door literally ripped off of its hinges.  Inside, intact but frightened, were all of the hens–and not a trace left of Anasazi. In his life and in his death he protected his flock above all else. His death was a powerful sign for me–a sign that I had to move on, from my beloved homestead, returning to the mountains of my birth. For I realized that I could not run my homestead without Anasazi; he was such an integral part that it was not the same without him. My dear hens found good homes with a friend, and I packed up my things and headed East towards the rising sun, back to the mountains where I belong.

 

It has taken me three years to write about Anasazi’s tale, because, until I experienced the rooster calls this past Winter Solstice, I still did not fully understand all that happened and all of the rooster’s power and magic. However, I know this for certain: I am thankful that the rooster is guiding us this year, of all years, for I would rather be under no other being’s protection. I know that those of us, in the US and in many other places in the world, are facing times of tremendous darkness. I point to the roosters in my first story, those who brought us holding vigil out of darkness and who crowed up the sun, as a sign of hope and light in these dark times. I also point to Anasazi, who protected his flock against any harm, and know that we, too, can be under the protection of the rooster this year.

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58 Responses to “Ode to the Rooster”

  1. Eliza Ayres Says:

    Reblogged this on Blue Dragon Journal and commented:
    Here comes the Light, little darling…

  2. Dawn Vierra Says:

    Reblogged this on Reiki Dawn and commented:
    That was an amazing share. I loved both your stories and how they so beautifully connected and tied into one another. Interwoven to make it even more profound than what initially felt it to be. Thank you so much. I even felt the loss of your dear Anasazi So touching The connection to the year of the rooster inspires more hope within.

  3. Dawn Vierra Says:

    Sharing. I absolutely adore this share. All the connections and symbolism. ❤❤❤❤❤😘

  4. Wonderful story, but sad end 😥 rest in peace amazing Anasazi ❤

  5. laurabruno Says:

    Reblogged this on Laura Bruno's Blog and commented:
    I need to share this post, too. Powerful stories! Thank you, Dana. David and I were talking last night about the importance and power of Story as ways of comforting each other and summoning courage and creative understanding and solutions. This is my favorite of all your marvelous posts! Happy Year of the Rooster!

    • Dana Says:

      I love it! This, of all things, is your favorite post :). This one just flowed out of me; when I had the experiences at the Winter Solstice, I knew it was time to write. Thank you, Laura. I hope you are well!

      • laurabruno Says:

        Yes, thanks, Dana! Very well here. Things are moving along (literally, soon). I’ve been working on a new book, and we spend most of our free time in Michigan when we can get up there.

        We are making a very speedy PA trip for my mom’s birthday, but I’m not sure if we will be able to detour, as we’re doing all the 10+ hours of driving in one day each way. I will let you know if we can swing it. Vacation times are tight with balancing looking for a house, moving, etc., so we’re trying not to use up all of David’s allotted time off until we know our other timing.

        Fingers crossed. If not this time, then like the rooster story, it will happen at the right time! Blessed Imbolc to you in the meantime …

        • Ruth Says:

          Thank you so much for the memories of my little male Rooster bantam chicken that was my only friend when I was around 8 and 9. He was the runt of 3 cocks and so he got picked on mercilessly by the others. After they pecked him to pieces, somehow he would get out of the pen, and run up to our back door waiting for me to bandage his bleeding comb, and soothe his hurt feelings. He meant everything to me and no one could understand our love for each other. But perhaps from this story you do. Thank you for the warm memories.

        • Dana Says:

          Laura, ok, let me know! I’d love to meet you sometime soon :).

  6. Reblogged this on Tania Marie's Blog and commented:
    Just beautiful…gave me chills when I read this earlier this morning, calling up many connections for myself, which took time for me to reblog until I’d processed on my own. The message of light and hope goes along with the dreams I’ve recently shared embodying the same theme. Thank you Dana for bringing to “light” the essence of this Year of the Rooster.

  7. Ronald C. Slabaugh Says:

    I have had hens now for some 10 years. Love them, even though I’ve moved way toward vegan and don’t eat eggs except in recipes (My neighbor buys the feed, does a lot of night close-up and morning open and takes most of the eggs but I would miss not having them. No rooster as I’m in a close neighborhood in town. GREAT STORIES both. Maybe someday. . .
    Ron Rowan

  8. […] The Druid’s Garden […]

  9. I loved both stories! Anasazi was indeed a treasured part of your family!

  10. Elkie White Says:

    Delightful! Thank-you.

  11. astrobuss Says:

    Wonderful post, captivating! Linked to this with Gratitude from https://astrobuss.wordpress.com/2017/01/29/chanticleer/ – the Rooster is very significant in cyclical astrology in this Century!

  12. litebeing Says:

    Hi Dana,

    I thoroughly enjoyed your stories about Rooster, drinking them in like steaming hot tea on a chilly evening. I felt comforted and enchanted by the Rooster energy and how they serve us so well. Thank you for choosing to tell the tale now.

    blessings,
    Linda

  13. Laurie Says:

    Such a delightful tale! Thanks for sharing. Isn’t it amazing how the many creatures of our world enhance it so much!

    • Dana Says:

      Yes! I would love to hear stories from folks about all the different animals. They have such magic and wisdom, and I am always honored to learn from them.

  14. A beautiful post. Thank you😃

  15. Mitch Says:

    Loved how you wove both stories together seamlessly, virtuoso writing! Anasazi was da man! Made me weep, he was the sacred masculine in it’s purest energy, selfless protector.
    Thank you for this gift 🙂

  16. Colin McGee Says:

    Wonderful, wonderful, thank you. I needed this today.

  17. Frances Tobia Says:

    Thank you for the story of Anasazi.
    In my childhood in northern Philippines, chickens were the stuff of a healthy meal( boil the meat with the amazing Moringa or malunggay, a “wonder” veggie in my mother tongue,Ilocano).
    And roosters were caressed by older men, like my father who chose the local culture of cockfighting as his occasional past time, betted on these roosters, prepared to lose all their ” disposable income” if need be.(My pa was a respectable member of our small town, a lawyer by profession, so, I guess it rubbed off some respectability on this form of gambling).
    And now, after reading your rooster story, it confirmed my intuition as a child that this animal of God’s creation has a beauty and value of it’s own.

    • Dana Says:

      It’s amazing how the rooster has such a different place in your culture. Don’t get me wrong–chickens are the stuff of a healthy meal here as well! But they are also more to many :). I’m so glad you found my blog. Thank you for sharing your story.

  18. Renee Says:

    Lovely stories about a nobel creature I knew very little about until now. Thank you Dana! p.s. Tosha Silver shared a link to your blog on her FB page today and it’s receiving a lot of well deserved attention.

  19. Max Rogers Says:

    That was beautiful Dana,
    You seem to have touched many hearts with this story.

    We have been blessed by many huge blond Buff Orpington roosters but none more wonderful and eccentric than Talker, our first rooster who would always talk to us and dance for us. He passed away of a heart attack at the age of four. My husband was terribly sad to lose his pet.

    Laddie, a bantam rooster lost part of his foot fighting raccoons through the wire of the coop. He was very ill and we lay him in a bed of clean hay by a food dish and a water bowl. His two little wives lay beside him to keep him warm and comfort him. He recovered and is still a scrappy little devil.

    Roosters are little warriors.
    Love from Max

    • Dana Says:

      They are little warriors! I love the story of Talker and Laddie. Laddie is a true hero; I’m glad to know he’s still there defending his flock. Hope you are well, Max!

  20. Thank you for sharing. Your words make me tingle with truth and awe. Jai Maa.

  21. Honyocker Says:

    Thank you for the story! It reminded me of our barred rock rooster, Lester, who died protecting the hens from a bobcat.

  22. Moony Says:

    Thank you for these two inspiring and powerful stories. I’m sorry about your rooster Anasazi, but he sounds like he was a fine bird indeed. This is really a wonderful reminder to think about the meaning and comfort you can draw from nature around you 🙂


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