Eggs and Actions in Life Is A Circle, Or A Torus

We have some chickens in our small suburban area. Not big enough to be a farm, but “homesteading” I suppose. We get eggs and the chickens are honestly so much fun, they have personality and emotions and more intelligence than you might expect. They like to sit with us outside, and “help” us dig as we dig in the garden, so always expect them to be around. One of the ways you mature in this society is recognizing how cold and unemotional we are about death, especially when it comes to non-human life.

We mourned one of our chickens this evening. Normally we get them in the coop around dusk where they can be safe. Not usually any threats to them, but sometimes raccoons have been spotted in the area and so to be safe rather than sorry, we always put them up before dark. As we head deeper into fall, the days are rapidly getting shorter, and the time eluded me, so we got outside a bit a later than usual, with it having been dark for a couple hours already. I’m usually very good at remembering or setting an alarm, but this week has been off so much with stress and depression that it just slipped my mind, and unfortunately, the dice rolled poorly. Went to put them in the coop and fill up their food dishes, and wondered where one was. I thought for sure I heard the “coo” and laughed, saying, “oh I hear ‘em, I bet they’re being silly hiding behind the pond.” Called out, didn’t hear anything. Stepped closer and steadied my flashlight beam. Found; but lifeless, a chunk missing from the breast. A predator was here and hungry. Oh my god, a quick surprise lets out before I could stop it. So much personality. My partner’s favorite, in fact. She knew what happened as soon as she heard it slip out of my mouth. “No…” she says. A pause, tears. “I’ll never see him again. I should have been out here with him.” I should have been too. We both failed. I could say stress and depression, but none of that undoes what happened.

So she wouldn’t have to do it, I grabbed the shovel and found a burial spot. Gently lifted the body into the hole, and said a little goodbye. Don’t know what good it does or not, but maybe some closure. I’m sorry. We failed you. You were a good bird, silly and funny. You loved digging up the worms, and we were glad to take care of a garden that grew you so many yummy worms and vegetables. We’re glad you were in our lives for this long. 4 or 5 years I think? Actually getting pretty old for poultry. I just hope you didn’t feel pain. Wishful thinking, I suppose. I hope it was quick. I hate to think otherwise. Nature can be cruel sometimes. The one time in however long that I was late. I’m sorry.

Nature can also be love, though. We take care of each other. The others are safe. He met his end bravely protecting the others, drawing attention of the predator away, because that was always his personality, to stay on guard, patrol the perimeter, and go looking for the others when couldn’t see them. An act of love. I don’t know what that means for a bird exactly, but not near as different from us as you might have believed.

I gave her a hug. I don’t think it has totally sank in for either of us. I think we’ll really feel it in the morning when we let them out for feeding time, and realize there aren’t as many sounds as usual.

It’s a good reminder to try to prioritize what we can in life. While we worry about other things, maybe those close to us aren’t getting the attention they need. Maybe people around us need help and we’re not even paying attention. I think many of us are so disconnected and have to rebuild what it means to have community and neighbors and friends. Solidarity, not just transactions. Being there for each other because it’s the right thing to do, not expecting any kind of reward. Getting to know each other and different points of view, and defending them all from the intolerant.

I don’t think it’s silly to mourn poultry, or any life. Pets especially of course because we bond so directly with them. But even the outdoor critters. There’s a family of cardinals that has lived here for generations now and I always love seeing them and their babies. There’s a groundhog that lives under the porch. Rabbits come regularly and eat the grass flowers. You can see the chipmunks coming and grabbing food to stock up for winter. I’m not sure exactly where it’s home is, but a hummingbird comes pretty regularly and will hover over us on the patio, stopping almost as if to say hello, before flying off to our flower bushes. The big bumblebees come and visit all the flowers, while the little friendly bees lay their babies in the bee nests I hung up for them. Mason bees? Something like that. I love seeing them all. They feel kind of like extended family. I’m sad when I don’t see them, and wonder if they’re ok. I’m always glad to see them again, or to see a baby, thinking at least the generations are going on and our home is a home for them too. I think the best legacy any of us can have is just knowing that future generations of all life will keep living on. Us being here has transformed the lives around us, transformed nature, and if we’re doing it correct, we’ve made things at least a little bit better for those future generations.

I don’t know how anyone can’t be angry and upset when people are suffering, given how much even wildlife affects me. Maybe we “logic away” the anger and the upset. Often that’s what happens; an individual death is a tragedy but mass death is “a statistic”, as the observation goes. Logic, mathematics, science, are very powerful tools that can and have improved our lives and understanding of the world around us immensely. They’ve also been used to downplay or justify some of the worst atrocities. We need science to fight ignorance. We also need love, and focusing a little bit more on why we do all this work in the first place. What’s the point of laboring our whole lives if we never get to enjoy it, never get to spend time with those we care about?

We’ll keep taking care of our flock, and I’m re-prioritizing them, in honor of our missing feathered family member. I don’t know if it will be right now, maybe not until spring, but we will get more chickens and keep our flock going and healthy and part of our ecosystem. I always wanted to expand the pond a bit, make a bit nicer, and maybe this is the time to do it. Give them more grazing space next to the pond. It’s about time to move compost into our vegetable plots and let it marinate for the winter for a good spring harvest, partly to feed us, but also the poultry love fresh vegetables too. I am sad. But also life goes on. All we can do is try to learn from the past, and try to do things a little better. Try to be a little better. Commit to healing, over time, one step at a time, not losing sight of ourselves and those that rely on us.

I hope the world can unite and turn tragedy into a better world. We can expand the world pond. We have space for everyone, easy. It’s social and economic systems run by psychopaths who don’t mourn people much less chickens that has created a system of so much suffering. Suffering for people, for chickens, for the whole planet. It makes me ill just thinking about it. It doesn’t have to be like this though. There’s more people that want to live differently and the tactics of fear, violence, suppression maybe aren’t working anymore. More and more are standing up, that’s what I’m seeing, and maybe there’s a ray of hope in the clouds of tragedy and despair, if you look closely. Maybe my little part speaking out locally, with my little garden and my little diary, can help build that better world. We have to be sad. And angry. And mourn. And plan and act so it never happens again. We have to never give up thinking about what comes after, and work to make it better for future generations.

Last updated October 20, 2023