Once upon a time, a fairly typical suburban mom, with
slightly left of center leanings, decided to get some chickens. She had heard that it was relatively easy to
have a simple backyard flock of free ranging birds that could roam in peace and
tranquility. And, better yet, she would
be able to feed her family truly organic eggs.
A conscientious sort, she took the health articles to heart-- although
it often delayed her at the grocery store when she stood in the aisle perplexed
about which scientific article she was following at the time. They were often so contradictory. But no matter, her own chickens and her own
eggs would surely be a straightforward
extension of her passion for peace, humanity, love and health. Free bird, like the song from the early
seventies came to mind.
Things went surprising well at first. The chicks were adorable and as they grew up
they would run down and greet her when she pulled in the driveway. Really!
And, she will never forget how on one day, when the coop door happened
to swing shut, the chickens actually pecked on her kitchen door to let her
know. This really surprised her,
actually, and got her thinking about some deeper issues. Nobody really ever mentioned that the
chickens would actually be able to think and plan. So, while it was a remarkable story to share
with her friends, she naturally started pondering the greater implications of
chicken welfare, which, she would add, had not previously been on her mind.
And then the day came when a hawk got one of them (it was
meant to happen, she learned, with free range birds). What struck her about this particular
experience was how the other chickens stayed hidden under the bushes even
though it was nightfall so she had to carry them back to the coop. Who would guess that a chicken could stay
frightened for that long? After this,
she often found herself staring up at the sky, while becoming quite adept at
learning the difference between a crow and a hawk. One day, when she was out on a walk, in
fact, she noticed a hawk flying east toward her house and called her kids to
let them know to check on the chickens.
They found this to be annoying.
Of course, there had to be some kind of solution to the hawk
problem. After a great deal of research,
she found out that she would need a covered run area in the winter. When she explained to the fence builders that
the run had to be rather large as these were supposed to be “free range”
chickens, they had to explain to her the physics of fence supports and the cost
involved. So, she compromised and had
them build a chicken “exit” door that opened up into the covered woods. On most days, they would still be free, she
reassured herself, just not in the dead of winter. At this point her kids started calculating
the cost of the eggs that they were eating.
By now, the mom was gradually becoming very tuned in to the
workings of nature and not at all immune to the realities. In
fact, while she was practicing the art of meditation with some friends at summer camp, the call came in that a fox had gotten her flock. Trying to be a good example to those around
her, she breathed through the next few minutes while she tried to figure out
what it was she was supposed to do.
Ultimately, the woman who was watching her dogs agreed to bury the
chickens the fox had left behind. She
was truly amazed that a professional dog sitter would agree to this impromptu
job, and quite stunned when the dog sitter found a chicken that was still
barely alive. Now, this was a situation
that she definitely had not considered when she purchased the chicks. What do you do with a half dead chicken? She decided to call her vet. Cell service was bad at family camp so she
had to stand between cabins while explaining the story. The secretary referred her on to a vet
farther away that handled birds. The
friendly dog sitter agreed to take the chicken there and check her in. When she inquired about the chicken later in
the day, the vet happily reported she was weak but alive and on oxygen. When
people heard this at camp they warned her about vet fees, another situation to
consider. Luckily, she was able to reach
her mom and ask her to go pick up the chicken and put her in the bathtub until
she got home.
It was not, surprising, therefore, that when she accidently
acquired a rooster, she was completely torn up about what to do. Though she was
told that roosters could be downright dangerous, she didn’t have the heart to
let it go, a certain death sentence. So
she decided to use the opportunity as a test of courage and give the rooster a
chance. Well, it turned out that the
rooster was not scary at all, and in fact, was weakened by some chicken
disease. Now, suddenly, she found
herself trying to nurse a rooster back to health. This involved many things, among them,
antibiotics, warm meals, and a space heater.
She also learned about parasites, the correct color for chicken
droppings, and the need for particular vitamins and minerals that can only be
mail ordered.
To further complicate matters, the rooster stayed immunocompromised. This meant that she was cooking for him on a
daily basis, all while rationalizing her behavior. And of course, the rooster displayed distinct
qualities she found both endearing and heartbreaking. For instance, though he often did not have
the strength to stand, as soon as something came near the coop, he would get up
the best he could on very shaky legs---his big effort to be tall and
intimidating to whoever was coming. She
knew better, of course, how very hard this was for him. And it made her love him all the more. She also took note that the rooster seemed to
have a sense of pride –as whenever she would feed him, he would only eat when
she looked away.
The suburban mom now reflects on how ambitious it actually
was to buy those chicks in the first place.
Had she known that they would bring so much drama and confusion to her
life, she might have thought more carefully about her decision. But no matter, she
is in too deep to reverse course. She
definitely has some healthy eggs on her counter, but they look very different
to her now .
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