I have always known my right of passage would be solitary and severe. What I didn’t know is that it would come today. The question is, what constitutes a true able-bodied- farm girl and not just a trend follower-backyard farming-enthusiast ? Anyone can have the farm animals, have the land, and give the time it takes to tend and nurture the whole package. That is most certainly not what makes a farm girl.

The make of a farm girl is one who can follow animals and their land through all seasons, not just the pleasant ones. Today a chicken died. The death in itself is not what I am speaking of though, it is that I was able to pick up the body and dispose of it that today made me into a farm girl. I no longer have to have a man to do my bidding, I don’t have to wait for him to come home and deal with the deceased bird. Death is-as we all know- a part of life, all life ends in death and I knew from the start that when I was able to touch a dead body that I would have reached that coveted status of farm girl.

We can all follow backyardigans, those trend-loving folk in whose growing circles chickens are trendy right now, growing your own food, subsistence living, and all such stuff. Having animals, feeding them and keeping them alive does not a farm girl make. One of those is made by doing the one thing you can’t stand even thinking about, looking at, or touching- not like a girl, but like a farm girl. For me that meant grabbing that chicken by the feet and dealing with the feathery bod, might I say- like a real man would? Yes. I would. No icky tummy, no eyes closed and jumping backwards, no fretting, screeching or crying but just dealing in quick and precise movements. This might not be your right of passage at all, maybe for you what you dread the most of it all would be watching a live birth, or dealing with chicken poo, those all are just not my hardest thing to have to deal with, they don’t even faze me really. Death of an animal for me is the worst, and not just death- but even looking at the dead body. Today I forced myself to pounce through that door and earn my right to be there with the rest of ‘em. It is now that I am able to take and deal with the full responsibility of my animals. Today I became a real farm girl.

PS. I will let you know when I have become a ‘Farm Woman’-as that would entail shooting the chicken and plucking and skinning and stewing it. Let me just say I haven’t gotten there yet, not yet.