EMPTY BROODER

            The last broiler chicks went out this week, which means that for the first time since March the brooder is empty.  Seasonality is a defining characteristic of farming systems that imbed with integrity into the ecological womb. 

             Just like life has seasons of birth, growth and death, a seasonal cycle pulses on the farm and creates the joy of beginnings and satisfaction of endings.  The never changing hum of the factory is completely different from nature's seasonal fluctuations.

             When farms try to break that flow with factory livestock houses it deprives the farmer and the greater farm community of the cycles that bring freshness and variance to life.  When I walked by the brooder yesterday, silent and empty, I didn't feel loss.  I felt satisfaction for a season accomplished.  I felt rejuvenation that comes with respite.  I knew refreshing rest is here; the summer sprint is over and winter's gentler pace is at hand.

             Contemplating this farm cycle makes me think of other cycles, including political, business, and cultural cycles.  Sometimes stopping is as important as starting.  Certainly this has been a year of new things.  I don't know about you, but I've had about as many new things for one year as I can handle.  I'm ready for sunset on the sunrise of 2020 distractions.

             In the sprint of cultural change that surrounds us, from social distancing to face masks to temperature checks to statue removal and burning businesses, this walk by the silent brooder reminds me that this too shall pass.  That whatever is will not last.  Business gurus say you have to re-invent yourself every 7-10 years to remain viable.

             Of some 26 empires throughout history, none has survived more than 300 years.  Average age is about 240 years.  If July 4, 1776 is the beginning of the American empire, perhaps our empty brooder is not far away.  The empty brooder signals winter's adjustment; new planning; a time to recoup and regroup.  Even in the most dire predictions spring looms.  New blooms, new chicks, new opportunities.

             The empty brooder is a metaphor for greater cycles and greater movement.  The empty brooder doesn't mean we're out of business; it means our freezers are full.  It doesn't mean we quit; it means we rest and think.  It doesn't mean we're uncreative; it means we stay within the boundaries of our nest.

             To the uninformed, the empty brooder looks disastrous.  Without context, it could look like an abandoned building.  It could conjure up disasters of disease or pestilence.  It could indicate business failure.

             But because I've walked by empty brooders for half a century, I know that it's a signal of seasons; nothing more and nothing less.  It's an inevitable and needed comma in the rush of production.  It gives us catch-up time and honors the constraints of winter.  It is the end of hectic and the beginning of new hope.

             Are you going through an empty brooder time in your life?