Meet the Zoo: Why We Opened the Zoo Room
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There’s a particular kind of chaos that happens in the evenings on our homestead. Hazel trots up to greet whoever’s home, a leaf clamped proudly in her mouth — you can’t have the leaf, you can’t touch the leaf, you are simply expected to admire it and give her a pat in return for the offering. In the side room, the guinea pigs start their wheek-wheek chorus, Kiwi the parakeet mimics them back note for note, and Pippin chimes in with her one sweet, stubbornly off-key addition. Bandit the cat, meanwhile, demands to be fed at full volume — even when there’s already food in her dish. And somewhere the kitten Sally is chasing her tail or fighting with a chair leg. I used to think this hour was just noise. Now I think of it as a kind of daily rhythm — the daily calling of names, the daily act of showing up for something that depends entirely on you.
That’s really what my little “Zoo” was born from — and why I decided to open it as a “room” in The Crafty Homestead. Not because we needed one more thing to manage, but because this part of my life had been happening quietly in the background for years, uncounted and unwritten, while the kitchen and the garden and the craft table got all the attention. It felt like time to bring it into the light — and to properly introduce you to everyone who lives here.
The Hearth Doesn’t Stop at the Door
Our theme this month is The Hearth’s Return — gathering the threads, bringing focus back indoors as the season shifts. And if I’m honest, no thread got left out in the cold longer than this one. This month, we’re giving the animals their own page on the site. Not a big systems overhaul yet — that’s coming in October, when we’ll walk through feeding routines, cleaning routines, and a full Pet Care Binder. For now, September is simply about introductions. Pull up a chair. Let me tell you who lives here.
Meet the Crew
Hazel is our dog — found on a friend’s county road and taken in without hesitation even though I had said the whole ride over that “a dog wasn’t in the plan at the moment.” She’s sweet, loyal, and greets everyone with that same leafy offering, rain or shine or even snow, somehow she still finds one. She’s the only one of the crew who lives in my office-turned-craft-room (though the cats do roam it during the day), thanks to a doggy door that lets her come and go as she pleases.
Everyone else lives together in the side room, each with their own space, run, or flight area. Bandit is our older cat — sweet at heart but wearing a permanent look of sarcasm, as though she’s judging every decision you’ve ever made. Her newest roommate is Sally, a kitten we took in from a neighbor, who is every bit as clumsy, goofy, and quirky as a kitten should be.
In the aviary, Kiwi the parakeet has been with me since the end of 2022 — chatty, convinced he’s ten times his actual size, and always ready to dance when music plays. He knows a couple of words and will happily carry on a full conversation with the light switch if you let him. His partner, Pippin, is shy and doesn’t fly much — you can tell she spent her early life prior to the homestead caged more than Kiwi was. She sings constantly, just a half-step off key and beat, and somehow it’s my favorite sound in the house. Rounding out the aviary are Louie, the lovebird I brought home at five months old because he just looked right into my soul when we locked eyes, and Lilly, his partner from a great little parrot shop we stopped by one day. She’s the newest member of the flock and still settling in, but that doesn’t stop her big personality.
Then there’s TJ, our bearded dragon, who started out small enough to fit in one hand and is now, tail included, as long as my forearm. He’s quiet, but endlessly curious, and loves nothing more than exploring and getting head pats. His neighbor Steve — named by my now sister-in-law — is a crested gecko who mostly keeps to himself, but reliably comes out to say hello whenever we spend time in the room.
And of course, the guinea pigs. Jeff and Patrick are my oldest, at about three years old — once a bonded pair, until age brought out a rivalry over who ranked higher, so now they each have their own space. Little Bit is the baby. He was bonded to an older guinea pig named Shaggy, whom I’d adopted from a friend. When Shaggy passed of old age, we set things up so all three piggies have their own space but can still see and interact with each other — enough company that Little Bit isn’t lonely, and enough distance that old rivalries stay peaceful.
The Loudest Hour of the Day
The busiest time in the Zoo room is always morning and just before bed — feeding time. The guinea pigs start it with their wheek-wheek calls. Kiwi mimics them right back. Pippin adds her one off-key note into the mix. And Bandit, unimpressed by all of it, simply demands her dinner louder than everyone else combined. It’s chaos. It’s also one of my favorite parts of the day.
What Coming Home Taught Us About Care
September asks us to come home — to swap the linens, sort the stash, simmer things low and slow. It turns out this crew teaches the exact same lesson, just with more fur, feathers, and scales. You cannot rush Pippin into flying with confidence. You cannot slow down TJ’s growth or convince Steve to be more social than he wants to be. You show up, at the same time, in the same way, day after day — and eventually that consistency becomes its own kind of faithfulness, the same kind Scripture keeps pointing us back to. Nowhere have I felt that verse more literally than standing in that side room every morning, doing the same small, faithful (sometimes messy and noisy) things for the same small, faithful creatures. But in return they have brought me great laughter, joy, and companionship, somehow knowing exactly the days I need it most.
Come Meet Them Yourself
More from the Zoo is coming over the next few weeks. Each member of the Zoo will have their own space in the Homestead Hub where we’ll post stories, pictures, videos, info, guides, routines, and more.
