it always upsets me when a chicken dies.disbelief.
i've only actually lost 2 chickens in the 2 or so years i've had them...which doesn't seem too bad...? both have died when i've been away visiting the city. i come home and just happen upon a chicken body. no sign of attack or injury. just dead. and i just stand there with my mouth hanging open.
disbelief.
all the other chickens just keep on keepin' on...i mean, what else are they gonna do?
i guess thats true w/ all species, including humans.save for the way we get caught up in grief.
not much grief goin on in chicken world.
apparently thats my job.
this one that just died was one of my wellsummers. gorgeous, huge, speckled eggs. i called her my crooked chicken.at some point months ago she got in the way of a dog stampede, was unable to walk for about a week and recovered but since then her body bent at a sharp angle at the base of her tail. these past couple of months she'd been picked on pretty badly by the others. her comb would be a bloody mess. i'd find blood droplets all over....i wondered if she was picked on for being crooked? or ill? is that just me applying human ableism to chickens?sigh....
in other news, my goddam birthday is coming up this friday. i wish i could somehow make it not important...but at this point its become some sort of symbolic litmus test for my life, my level of isolation and my community...or lack thereof. fucking ableism and poverty...i swear. i mean, my friends/family that are scattered around the globe will call or email to say hello but whats sorely lacking is actual human contact. oh blah....self deprecating thoughts don't wear well, grief makes me look tired...and older....silly birthday. maybe i'll invite the chickens in for tea.
they could teach me a thing or 2 about how to keep on keepin' on.
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Happy Birthday Erin, I have a belief that we tend to choose isolation as a way of insulation? You can always find people but it is hard to find quiet. So for your birthday have a party, for you!!! Invite someone or two. Celebrate your life!!! it is what you make it!!! Make it Grand!!!! If you have a wound and keep licking it, it will only get worse, so go to town, and party down!!!! ps. Chickens kill off the sick and imperfect, don't take any lessons from the chickens.
Happy birthday again. I am sending you good wishes!!!
hey there, thanks for the birthday wishes. i agree that isolation can be a lot about insulation. the difficult thing to navigate for me is that the isolation is part my doing and part the doing of a largly inaccessible toxic society...in that sense i'm being forced to insulate myself from all the things that make me really ill.
within that, the decison to let the sheep go and get off this farm and go back to a populated environment is my brave...maybe foolish attempt to minimize the isolation factor. we'll see how that goes eh?
thanks again and i hope your well!
It really sucks when people don't understand...toxins!!!! Perfume gags me and Febreeze just chokes me....use soap for cleanliness. I understand, it really can make you choose isolation. I feel bad for you having to make all of these decisions in such a short time. Are you going home??? I am doing well as long as, I stay away from chemicals. by the way your weaving is awesome. I am thinking of letting my big loom go....I have too much stuff and little space. I don't have the time to weave that I would like. I hardly get to spin as much as I want.
Today is your birthday!!!! I hope it was a good one.
its actually friday, tomorrow...but thanks! i actually be glad when its over and my brain can go back to normal...yeesh.
Isolation/insulation.
When my nephew passed the grief was unbearable.
Worse was watching my kids try to deal with theirs.
That was excruciating.
I dropped out of everything and hid in the forest.
It took six years before I felt ready to rejoin the world.
I'm slowly making my way back.
Part of me will always be feral-I will make sure of it-because that's what saved me.
p.s. If you invite the chickens in may I humbly suggest you serve cornbread with your tea.
My chickens dug the hell out of cornbread.
Made in a cast iron skillet of course.
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