Feathering The Nest

The poor wee hens have been living in heated darkness for over a week. They don't really care why it took us so long to build the run. They don't want to hear excuses like: "We're sorry we've been keeping you in a closet, but it's been raining for ten days and we didn't want to build your run in the rain." Because they're chickens, and chickens don't have enough brain space to process man's paltry reasons for ignoring their comforts. They just knew it was hot, they were getting an awful lot of feathers on their backs, making them even hotter, and they were living in a closet, like forgotten hens.

Today wasn't momentous for them, as they simply think they're finally living as all poultry should live: in the safety of a run, with plants to crush, bugs to eat, and dirt to roll in. But it was momentous for me. A little over one year ago I sat in my wonderful yard in Santa Rosa, listening to the funny soothing noises Claudine, Cora, and Dikas were making in the warm, lazy afternoon. I was looking at the things I'd planted in my garden, taking in the color of the flowers already in bloom, and I had the sudden quiet realization that I was having a perfect moment. More than that, I realized right then that my life was exactly as I'd hoped it would be, that nothing was missing from it, it was full, it was perfect.

You can't have a realization like that without attracting the attention of the evil eye, (unless you have said realization while looking in a mirror and crossing three fingers), (which I wasn't because I'm not the kind of person to have mirror "features" in my yard), so within two weeks of that beautiful moment, my life began to fall spectacularly apart. As most people already know, the first seam to rip was my whole utopian chicken set-up. As most of you also know, "Shagreen" (the name has been changed to protect me from lasting ripples of evil on the waters of misfortune I have already swum) is the person whom I blame for everything. Alright, alright, relax. She's not responsible for anything more than an abnormal intolerance for chickens anywhere near her person. And since her house was directly behind mine, naturally she could hear Cora laying in the afternoon. Because, really, there wasn't anyone within two blocks who couldn't. But unlike most of our neighbors, she couldn't find charm in chicken noise. So we had to get rid of our girls.

You can call it silly, but it really broke our hearts. Those birds were the crowning touch on a good life. They supplied us with amazing fresh eggs, cheerful noises, and entertainment. Ever since they left I have missed sitting next to their run, watching them scuffle around in the dirt, and play out their funny little pecking order skirmishes. Today, I got to sit down in the dirt with a beer, next to our newly built coop, and watch my hens trying to sleep after a dreadful ordeal with Chick who wants to kill them. I got to watch them pile onto each other for the best dozing position while keeping one eye on me until each one began to feel the calm and all their heads dropped like sudden death. It was heaven. I've come full circle. After losing Claudine, Cora, and Dikas, (all of them are dead now), I didn't know if I'd ever get to have chickens again because they're illegal in Santa Rosa. I couldn't see what was going to happen in our lives. I couldn't see that we were going to move to a town that allows us to have up to twelve fowl.

I'm not going to say my life is perfect now. It's hard to fool the evil eye with lies when you're holding the truth in your head, so it's with satisfaction that I can report that my life would be perfect if we had everyone we loved here in Yamhill County. But we don't. However, as I put my birds on their roost for the first time, tucking them into the safety of their coop as the light finally faded, I felt such peace in my heart. An inner quiet I haven't felt for just over a year now. Philip and I stood in the middle of our farmy garden, enjoying our spot in this wonderful town, and listened to the quiet trilling of the girls as they dropped off to sleep. Now we just have to find a way to convince Chick that the chickens are not an invitation to use her retriever skills.