Ode to the Heroic Last Days of a Smart Chicken

Smart chicken

In the beginning we named them all: Ulga, Blackie, Goldie, Chicken Jane. We celebrated their individuality and unique characteristics.They were like little walking lawn ornaments / personalities to us; they clucked and cooed their way around the yard, eating bugs, "fertilizing" our side walk, and gifting us each morning with the best fresh eggs you can imagine. To a couple of Eau Claire transplants and hobby farm wanna-be's like me and Jon, the whole chicken enterprise seemed fun and ridiculously easy. I can't remember any problems, the first few years.

Yeah, well. Turns out that was mostly luck. There were several big holes in our benevolent free range chicken concept: 1) Chickens don't always stay in your yard. How do they know where your yard ends and the neighbor's begins? And 2) chickens taste, well... like chicken. They are darn tasty to foxes, raccoons, weasels, bird dogs and a host of other critters who called this place home long before we ever did.

Either she wanted to come inside or she was looking at her reflection, for a friend :(.

So we learned to fortify our coop. Concrete block or heavy stone along the base. No gaps in the fencing. Secure roof on top. Sealing the coop was a trial and error process with feedback being "The chickens are alive!" or "This pile of feathers here. Where's Chicken Jane?" Letting them out later in the day, so the free ranging was a shorter time span and mostly confined to those hours when we were home, seemed to help. Key to everything was (and is) locking the chicken coop door at twilight, after first ascertaining that the chickens are safely perched INSIDE the coop.

We got better at keeping chickens alive. But without consciously discussing it, as the replacement chickens came and "went", we stopped naming our chickens.

Still, of late, one chicken had distinguished herself. She was unusual enough for us all to spot a difference. For one, Teddy was afraid of her... she like to be around people and didn't care for his territorial yippy-yap, in regards to us. She was the one the other chickens had left out of their little clucky-cluck club: the maverick... younger and leaner... slightly scruffy. Who didn't care which places were official bug hunting grounds for the older chickens... She knew there would be beetles and worms in the fresh dirt I was digging up, and that I would let her get at them. Smart Chicken.

But four nights ago there was an incident. We forgot to shut the coop door, and apparently raccoons got in. Jon woke to frantic chicken distress around 11 am. His recovery effort led to one survivor: Smart Chicken.

My garden companion

After that, in the evening, come twilight, Smart Chicken would disappear, not returning to the coop (that site of carnage). We couldn't find her new hiding place. We'd walk around the yard, calling, and wouldn't hear a peep (usually chickens coo back). We'd leave the door open, just in case, and wondered if she'd survive the night. The raccoons were still around, as evidenced by the upset food they'd leave behind in the unlocked coop. But for three legendary nights, Smart Chicken quietly survived the night terrors. My affection and interest in her grew. I was determined to celebrate her exploits in this blog.

Then last night. RIP, Smart Chicken. The boys (David and Michael) heard cries in the yard. We searched, but she'd vanished. We have not seen her yet today.

Other chickens have come and gone; they will continue to come and go in the future, too, since we are determined to have more chickens. But this is the one I feel worst about; I really do. I think it's because I identify with her a bit. Like Smart Chicken, I'm okay being on my own. I can be brave and smart. Definitely I am on the scruffy side; the other chickens (I mean, people) don't necessarily think I'm cool, but I get by just fine.

Smart Chicken's story reminds me that while I will successfully go my own way for awhile, in the end, my fate will be an ordinary one. One day I will be here; the next I will be gone. Such is the human condition.

So anyhoo. How do you segue from THAT to ordinary pictures of random summer happenings? Not sure, but here goes...

Like a bunch of happy chickens who act as if our lives will never be touched by foxes or raccoons, we've been going on busily with our lives. That includes a trip to Kentucky to spend more time with Susan, Jay, and baby Oliver. We also attended cousin Peggy Linskey's 4th of July reunion and watched fireworks at Phil and Jill's on Lake Holcombe. Right now we're enjoying a visit with David.

Here are the pictures, in no particular order:

Library volunteers

Boat ride

Kissy faces at the fair (and my finger)

Helping Alicia at her yard sale

Family reunion at Peggy's

Puppy at the fair

Uncle Chuck and Aunt Jane's 50th Anniversary cake at Peggy's

Aunts Irma, Margaret, and Lorely, with Dad and Uncle Chuck

Phil and Jill's cottage on Lake Holcombe, where we watched fireworks

Leila and Oliver

Michael and Jackson

Susan carrying Oliver on an outing

Oliver spending time at an outdoor water park

The little family

David and Logan joined us in Kentucky

Could his little face be more expressive??

A meal with Jay's parents

Looking like his daddy, here, I think

Leila can ride without training wheels, now!

David eating pancakes and eggs Emma made him

Sisters having a playful moment

David at Grandma Jane's

David and his Aunt Ann

Nephew Joe's daughter Lauren and Leila beading necklaces

With Grandma Jane

Surprise visit with Kelsey and Evie!

neat little outbuilding on Luke and Kelsey's property

I apologize if parts of this blog had a morbid tone. This blog is driven by my desire to stay in communication with family and friends, but it has a secondary purpose of allowing me a forum for writing. That secondary purpose kind of took over today. I had a strong compulsion to write about Smart Chicken and honor her life :).