Gabe, The Mother Hen!

Gabriel—Gabe to his friends—is our 120-pound Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dog. He’s a big, lumbering, majestic puff of white fur who keeps predators at bay and patrols the property with stoic determination.

But somewhere along the way, Gabe missed the memo and decided he’d rather raise chickens Especially chicks. Gabe loves chicks.

We’ve found him curled up in the brooder area more times than I can count, flat on his side like a big, fluffy polar bear while tiny puffballs hop over him like he’s the world’s warmest jungle gym. If he thinks they’re cold, he’ll gently nose them under the heat lamp. He doesn’t bark. He doesn’t fuss. He just supervises, babysits, and occasionally sighs like he’s disappointed no one brought him a juicy steak for his efforts.

Now, our other livestock guardian, Remi, is a little more. . . straightforward. When a chicken dies, we toss it to the dogs—circle of life and all that. Remi eats hers right away and gets on with her day.

Gabe? Not so much.

Gabe will carry his dearly departed chicken around like a fragile relic. He won’t eat it. He won’t bury it. He just walks the yard with it in his mouth, as if he’s trying to protect it from further harm—or maybe give it a proper send-off. We’ve never been entirely sure if he eventually eats it or just reluctantly sets it down when hunger finally reminds him he’s still a dog.

But what we found yesterday topped everything.

Gabe was lying in the corner of the barn and wouldn’t move. At all. Which isn’t exactly unusual—he’s not what you’d call a high-performance machine. He’s generally pretty laid-back, except when a predator shows up, then he's all business. After some persistent calling and bribery failed, Jim finally walked over and gave his giant, fuzzy backside a push.

And that’s when we saw it.

There, tucked underneath him like he was the proudest hen in the flock, was a nest.

A real nest. With real eggs. Several of them. Hidden behind the wheelbarrow by a few sneaky hens. Gabe, bless his fluffy heart, had taken it upon himself to sit on them—gently, like this was his job now. He had accepted the call to motherhood and wasn’t about to let those eggs go un-incubated on his watch.

While the other dogs are doing things like barking at raccoons or patrolling the fence line, Gabe has appointed himself surrogate hen.

I guess every farm needs a Mother Hen. But sometimes, they come with paws, patience, and very, very confused instincts. And in Gabe’s case, an alarming amount of confidence that he could explain all this to the chicks when they hatch.

Good grief, don't let him into the chicken coop. He could never fit into one of the nest boxes!!!!

Gabe: "Hey, they took away my eggs. I loved those eggs. Not fair!"

Remi: "Did someone say eggs? Eggs are yummy! Is it snack time?"

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