No trouble

The very long life of an exceptional bird

None of us knows for sure how long it went on. Not really. All we know with certainty is that she became part of our clan when she was very young, and the children were very young, and we were all pretty much novices at the whole farming thing. We hadn't had a chance to develop the more Darwinian principles of the seasoned caretakers we became.

She was different not hopeless. She required careful consideration was all, and we were just the ones to give it to her. We never envisioned it persisting, but who thinks about those things in the moment, when it's just a little something extra, not so much to ask, no trouble at all really, and look how the kids adore her. There was more than enough room to make a safe haven for a chicken who mysteriously lost the ability to use her legs in a normal fashion. As long as she could get herself to sustenance and shelter it wasn’t an issue. Not at all, really.

So it began and so it went on, across the seasons, through the chapters of our lives. We'd laugh about having a disabled chicken. We’d shake our heads and laugh even more about having a geriatric, disabled chicken. She was no trouble at all. Really. And, she asked so little of us. Bright-eyed with a guk-guk of gratitude most every time we interacted with her, she never needed veterinary care, never got underfoot, never dragged home anything foul, never wandered off, and never lost her enthusiasm for her unusual, solitary existence.  One especially bitter night, just before Valentine’s Day, we brought her inside. Old girls like her have earned the right to a spa treatment when a polar vortex blows through. Relishing the warmth of the house and being close to her human flock, she didn’t seem to mind downsizing to a small pet carrier. For a day, she ate with gusto and told tales in her colloquial chicken chatter.  And, the next day, before the light took its leave from the sky, she was gone.

If there were some sort of prioritized list for pet-to-people connection—and, I'd say there is even if nobody much talks about it—chickens don't rank very high. When they're allowed to live beyond a certain age they mostly don't, so what's the point in bonding? Snowy was different. Snowy went on. After 16 years, we no longer talked about lack of attachment, we just shook our heads and laughed. It was easier than explaining how on earth we came to love a bumbly, blonde bird for such a long time.

Life brings us messengers of all stripes and species to teach us what we need to learn. Snowy taught us perseverance. She taught us that appearances aren't always what they seem. And, she taught us that the world is filled with remarkable souls, some of whom require a bit more regard before their best gifts can be revealed. And really, offering at least that much is no trouble at all.

©2016 Ode to a Chicken