Wild Turkeys: Symbols of Hope Amid Change

This is the same post I published on Substack but I realize not everyone has made the shift and if you're visiting this website for the first time, I want to make sure I share this widely.

Hello friends, I know it’s been a while. This past year has had its share of challenges, writing blogs and posting on Social Media simply wasn’t high on the priority list, however, with another year of ministry under wraps, I want to honour the journey we’ve been on together and share a few things with you.

This morning, as I was making my coffee, a family of wild turkeys returned to the bird feeder for the second day in a row. We’ve had a lonely turkey coming every day for the past two weeks, always around two in the afternoon. I started calling her Nancy. I thought it was strange that she was alone. Mike and I have talked about her, wondering where her flock was, if she had one. Mike thought it was strange she didn’t have at least a Tom with her. I quipped she is a strong, independent woman. She doesn’t need a Tom.

I love watching them. I’ve seen plenty of flocks on the side of the road, crossing the road, off in the distance when driving places, but it’s something else seeing them up close.

Most of you know I have raised turkeys and chickens. My last blog for Butterfly Way was about how sad I was to take my turkeys to the butcher for processing. A sad day indeed, but honestly, it’s the best turkey I’ve ever eaten. I had the pleasure of sharing the bird we called Thanksgiving with my co-workers at the Staff House in Algonquin and the leftovers at a Thanksgiving potluck at the Visitor Centre for the Ontario Parks and Friends of Algonquin staff. We were certainly filled with more than just gratitude.

Mid-September, my family and I started talking about Henry and our hens, or rather his hens and our ducks JoJo and Bartholowmee (no, that’s not a typo). The flock that has brought us happiness, sustenance and helped us make connections with people we might not have otherwise, had become a bit of a bone of contention in our household. We were all working full time; we were looking ahead at the winter with some apprehension and trying to be realistic - none of us could eat the eggs. Three of us are allergic to them, and the fourth has elevated cholesterol. Keeping them was beginning to make little sense and less feasible with our shifting schedules.

I have had a dream of having a small-scale homestead where the animals would not only provide food but meaningful connection with people. For a time, that’s what they did. The eggs have been shared from Madawaska to Found Lake in Algonquin, Emsdale to Barrie, and even as far as Hamilton. When we started almost 4 years ago, our egg carton supply came from CAMA Woodlands in Burlington. The birds have been a bit of a “main attraction” to anyone visiting. Henry always loved to show off his skilz, and no one could resist the “pom pom ducks.”

Of course, chickens, ducks and turkeys aren’t the only things I’ve dreamt about. Butterfly Way emerged as a ministry to those who have experienced trauma. Its beginning is connected to what I believed would have been helpful to my family 15 years ago when a crisis brought an extraordinarily rude awakening, taking a decade to recover from, financially anyway.

In my pursuit of providing peaceful respite through my written reflections, with my chickens, artwork, or out in the “near-wilderness” of our property, I have been deeply impacted by my research and my ongoing personal therapy. I now understand that the response to people who have experienced trauma is far more complex than I can fully grasp or even impose on myself.

The really screwed-up part about the effect of trauma on the brain is that even though healing is “good” for us, trying to “make” ourselves heal, even through seemingly pure and holy means, can have the complete opposite result and lead to further harm.

This reality has been challenging to come to terms with in my healing journey.

Sometimes, the baby steps seem excruciatingly slow and even pointless. Part of me just wants to “get it all out in the open” and fix it. Like taking a car to a mechanic, have the problem diagnosed, order the part, replace it, and you’re on your merry way… but that’s not how it works. In terms of trauma, it would be like trying to do the same repair as you’re speeding down the highway. Not only would you total your car, but there’s a really good chance you’re going to take out a few other cars, too.

It’s difficult for me to be so direct about this, but Butterfly Way, as we’ve known it, cannot go forward. I could give you at least ten (probably more) really good reasons why, but none of them are as vital to this ministry and the well-being of myself and those I aim to serve, as the toll that preserving it is taking on my overall health. I understand now how incredibly important it is for someone leading this type of ministry to be present in the moment and able to be a co-regulator. That simply isn’t me and the more I try to “make it” me, the more harm I am causing myself.

This may sound like bad news, but it isn’t actually. I’ve been working at this since 2019, albeit informally, for 10 years before that. Three years ago, through New Ventures and the CCD, we formalized my vision and started bringing it into reality. We started with a lengthy vision statement: Butterfly Way is an emerging New Venture focused on coming alongside people who have experienced trauma by offering them respite in a supportive, loving environment. By incorporating nature, animals, and art-making, our goal is to restore calm and help begin the process of healing.

I’ve worked at clarifying and shortening this statement, but it still holds. Respite, nature, animals, art, and finding calm in a supportive environment are all things that I have embraced since we moved here. We have provided refuge to a few people over the past few summers, several of whom I’m sure will continue to visit each year. We said in the beginning that if we made a difference in one person’s life, it would be worth it and I think we have certainly made an impact on more than one person, including myself and my family.

After nearly five years of being here, Butterfly Way has contributed to my healing enough that I can love myself into letting this ministry go so I can heal some more. I can be the help I always needed; it’s time for me to show up for myself.

In conversation one day, a couple of Jillian’s co-workers mentioned they had lost several hens to a predator and were looking for a handful of laying hens. We decided to give our hens to these two new families. Leaving us with JoJo and Bartholomee. We didn’t realize how good a protector Henry was until he had been gone only 4 or 5 days, and a weasel chewed a hole through the wall of the chicken coop, duck was on the menu. I wasn’t at home when the chickens left and the ducks died so I didn’t have to face my grief all at once.

I came home from my brief assignment in Algonquin, and my chicken coop was empty. No more squawks or quacks or staring out the window wondering what all the racket is. No more eggs, egg cartons, or bags of chicken feed. We bought eggs the other day because we were expecting company - the eggs were white! Blasphemy!

Then along came Nancy.

I haven’t been in the chicken coop since before my birthday on October 15. I just couldn’t bring myself to go in there. A shell of a place, white duck feathers still on the floor. Mike had buried their remains. The hole in the wall a visible sign of a violation. It makes me feel a little nervous going in there now, but we still have chicken food left, and I thought Nancy might like it.

So I went down and got a scoop of food and brought it to the feeder outside my kitchen window along with some expired arugula. The next day, Nancy brought her family. Suddenly, six giant wild turkeys were 10 feet outside my window having a feast.

Nancy wasn’t alone after all. Maybe she is the family scout? Or the brave one? Or she was just hungrier than the others.

When they came back this morning, a thought crossed my mind, “God sent these turkeys to me.”

Part of me thinks that’s a silly thought, but another part of me feels quite content to believe that our God is loving and kind enough to know I would enjoy them. He knows I miss my birds, even though letting them go was the right thing to do for the time.

The turkey family has brought me so much joy today. All day, as I’ve been writing, I can hear their purrs and yelps around the yard. The backyard has been so quiet without Henry and his girls. It’s the first day in a while I have felt hopeful. Hope for a future still not known, but having a little more assurance in the One who does. If He cares enough to do all this for me and send turkeys too, then I don’t need to worry about the ministry of Butterfly Way. He’s clearly got this, He always did.

_______________

Some logistics. I haven’t concluded a ministry before so please bear with me. I will leave my website up until I am confident the people who have been tracking with Butterfly Way understand we’ve come to the end. By the end of the year, both my Instagram and Facebook pages will be closed. I might keep my Substack, who knows, I may want to keep writing about trauma and healing. We won’t be offering any overnight accommodations, but for now, the studio will remain available for day use.

à Dieu, Christina