Loves and losses...and chickens

I could be the worst chicken owner in the history of chicken owners...that is the only explanation for what has occurred at my suburban chicken compound.  My poor cute birds - of the 8 of them we started with, 6 of them are lying in graves dug by their chicken mama (me).  It's heartbreaking!

Looking back, I'm not sure I would have done things much differently, though.  My dear husband and I have always sort of jumped straight into things without a lot of preparation, and muddled our way through until everything straightened itself out.  19 years ago, we met each other, lost our minds, threw everything else to the wind, and basically became the family we are today - no caution, no preparation (like how to kindly extricate ourselves from our current relationships), no thought.  We cleaned up all the messes we made as we went along (or didn't).  We've basically repeated this pattern together ever since - we randomly adopted a cat, foolishly I fell in love with a second cat, he adopted a dog with no warning, I brought home a rabbit from the vet office where I worked one day.  We bought every house we had fairly impulsively, and craziest of all, we started a family accidentally.

This pattern WORKS for us.  I'm a mess of a person - a whirlwind, all complicated and prone to depressive episodes as well as moments of crazy joy and rapture.  He's a cozy guy - very internal and quiet with only  rare fits of activity.  If I put too much thought into something in advance, I lose all confidence in myself to be able to execute anything.  He has the confidence, but usually not the ambition.  And so, most of what we have accomplished we have begun by falling into something together (involving no previous thought, or activation of the fear factor on my part).

We've done pretty well!  Our surprise wedding was beautiful, despite minimal preparation.  My surprise motherhood has somehow produced three magnificent children who are so much more confident, beautiful, and smart than their mother.  Our first darling pets were loving, wonderful creatures that blessed our lives.  So why would we think our chicken adventure would be anything other than a success?

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When I was pregnant with Emma, I was young, depressed - having just made a decision that I couldn't even begin to rationalize or even understand (to keep the baby, to give up my dream to go to vet school, and to instantly marry my long-term boyfriend), and basically alone in my mothering adventure.  My mother had died 14 years before, and I stubbornly refused to accept anyone else into her place.  If I couldn't have my own mother, I wouldn't have any substitute mother.  Luckily, I had no one clamoring to fill her shoes, because I would have summarily dismissed her in a heartbeat.  So I was preparing to raise a baby with absolutely no instinct, no support, and no information.  On top of that, my battles with depression over the years had led to my inability to maintain any of my friendships.  I was left with only the few brave girls who could love me despite my inability to reach out, and my dear sisters (all of whom were not close to baby-rearing ages).

We learned how to breastfeed...just the two of us (Me + Emma) - through books and trial and error.  We learned how to do everything that way, actually - and I, the woman who cried when trying to figure out what a "onesie" was, became a mother with the help of my dear baby daughter.  I pieced together lots of information and learned to trust myself, a little.

I figured having chickens would be the same way.  Like breastfeeding, chicken-keeping was something my grandparents and parents had not done, but for generations before that, chicken-keeping was not rare - it was passed down from family to family as a method of nourishing their children.  If so many people could do it, and HAD done it, then why couldn't I?

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So, when my husband whimsically suggested that we get chickens (after reading an article in Psychology Today on a flight home from Las Vegas), of course I jumped straight in.  We had a successful report card full of impulsive decisions done well.  I had chicken pictures pasted in my little journal of garden inspiration from way back in 2002!  We read a little on the internet, called a nearby farm and had a long conversation with the farmer, and decided to pop into the car to get ourselves some baby chicks.

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Things you should not believe when told (I have learned all of this the hard way!):

1. Chickens are easy!
2. Chickens will live for 8-9 years, no problem.
3. You don't need to worm chickens.
4. You will get used to the idea that some of them will die.

Things I have learned:

1. Chickens are not easy in the dead of winter or in high summer!  Think frozen waterers and the fear of them overheating...lots of worry during those times.  They are also not easy when they are sick - too few resources for caring for them in suburbia (can't find a chicken vet in Southeastern Michigan to save my life...can't pay someone to help me, even if I wanted to). 
2. It is hard to judge a chicken's possible longevity if the farm they come from culls their birds after their 2nd laying season. Keeping chickens as "pets with egg benefits" is different from keeping them as a crop.
3. There is a whole science to raising chickens - medicating them/not medicating them, giving them supplements, feeding them.  If you've raised rabbits, hamsters, guinea pigs, etc. - this is harder!
4. When you have hand raised your chicken, it "talks" to you, follows you around your yard, it will be very sad to say goodbye.  Even if she only cost 3.50 at the start of it all.

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And so, what do I think?  I think chicken-keeping is NOT for everybody.  I barely think I can stand it for myself - the loss of one of my birds hurts every time.  Luckily my children and husband are not as attached to the chickens as I am (with the exception of Emma); if it were as hard for them as it was for me we'd have to stop!

I'm not sure I'm ready to give it up, though...I've learned so much - chicken anatomy, how to dose cattle anti-coccidial drugs for chickens, chicken behavior - and I relish the opportunities to learn more.  On top of that, I'm so attached to my little garden buddies.  There is nothing like having little buddies following you around in the yard while you are working.

For now, the plan is to stick with what we've got, and what we're left with is our two strongest birds - Margaret (the boss) and Annie Lennox, her constant little shadow.  February or March would be the best time to get some extra girls to grow and to add to our coop (gives enough time for the babies to grow and bond with us - who am I kidding, me - and 6 whole months outside after they get their big girl feathers to acclimate to the climate and to winter).  However, we have vacation plans for April which might mean no chickens for us in March.  Should something happen to Margaret and Annie Lennox in the meantime, I might be too broken up to start over!  OR...I could revamp my whole regime and start anew.  We'll see.

What a week!

Last week was filled with sickies and also achievements!

• We got news that Katie has been invited to take the 4th year mid-year test for Math...big news as she is a 3rd grader!
• Katie then proceded to vomit all Tuesday night, be sick still on Wednesday, went to the doctor and was diagnosed with strep throat on Thursday, missed school on Friday!
• Emma took 2nd place for Starry Starry Night at the district Science Olympiad...and helped her team to take 4th overall with good performances in her other two events.
• When we got home, we found her Math Placement letter for next year...she is skipping two levels for next year, and will be placed in 7/8 math (Pre-Algebra) as a 6th grader!
• She then proceded to vomit all over Somerset Mall after a shopping trip and visit to California Pizza Kitchen with her Dad (she's a very very messy vomitter.)
• Nathan learned to ride a two-wheeler!  His first attempt didn't go well, as he threw his helmet, Bill kicked it, he yelled at Bill, Bill yelled back, he stormed in the house crying...but he did well with his loving mother the next day!  (Mom is not necessarily more patient than Dad...but we make a very awesome parenting team.  When one of us utterly loses it, the other one is ready to perform the patient parent act!)
• I have recently taken up spinning at our gym (mid-January) and yesterday joined some fundraiser for Team in Training.  I rode 80+ miles yesterday in one sitting!  So funny that I used to absolutely hate biking and now I can do it for 3 hours and 80+ miles after a couple of months.  I don't look it yet, though!
• Biggest Pam accomplishment - my lenten resolution.  I decided to give up candies, cookies, cakes, ice creams, mochas from Starbucks, and Diet Coke - all things that crawled into my diet as I became miserable and suffering with each subsequent death.  I thought I wouldn't last a day...but I have!  Pretty good for someone who felt she absolutely couldn't do it...and considering 1/3 of my daily calories was probably made up of this garbage.  I do give myself Sundays off (switched it for Saturday this week as Science Olympiad tired me out and I had a coffee at Tim Hortons...and then delicious dessert made by my aunt that night).  That is NOT to say that I don't have many bad habits still...but I am gradually learning that maybe I will be able to control myself one day.  It is an accomplishment for me to eat regular food instead of all of that sugar daily.  Now I have to undo some of the damage I did with all of that disordered grieving/eating...but all in good time.  It's horrible that you can cause so much damage in a day...and then many many days...but the reversal process is probably 5-6 times as long as it took to cause that damage!

Chicken owner for one whole year!!!!!!!!

On March 14th, I celebrated my first anniversary of being a chicken owner!  The girls (Margaret, Annie Lennox, Annabelle, Alan Trammell, and Princess Snow White - my favorite) and I celebrated with a long day outside in the warming weather.  Yesterday I spruced up their coop - cleaned and swept it, aired it out, took out a few of the things I had used to winterize it.  And last night was the first night they had no heat lamp on in a LONG LONG TIME.  Bill wanted to try a new watering contraption he created after dark, but when I went back to open up the coop they were so snoozy and cozy without the light I only got the teeniest cooing back at my voice.  I implored him to leave them alone to their first totally dark and cozy sleep in awhile.  What a nice anniversary week they are having!

I feel compelled to exclaim to the world that I am firmly in love with my chickens.  I don't see an end to my chicken-ownership...ever.  They are adorable, useful, friendly, sweet, amusing pets.  Off to water them!!!!

Resolutions?

I don't ever need a New Year to spout off a resolution or two...seems like I am always grasping at new ideas that will help me be more productive, a better parent, to feel more fulfilled, to lose those extra 10 lbs, to make a difference in the world.  When the New Year rolls around and the stores, and magazines, and newspapers, and the whole internet are filled with ways to inspire people to change their lives for the better, it just about sets me over the edge.  It's too much!  I'm ready to change all things at once ANYWAY, and then to have all of this inspiration around me just makes me schizophrenic with wants and needs to do better, be better, etc.

Well, except for the fact that about 75% of the time I'm miserable because I lost my little precious shadow and can't be inspired to even feel a glimmer of hope about things...but it feels too maudlin to go over and over how much I miss my precious pooch here.  The stupid writers of all of those dog books have already done it - what makes my grief over my dog any better or more poignant than theirs?  It should suffice for me to say that I am miserable and that I am doing my best (yet again) to function despite an annoyingly large amount of grief.

I suppose the state of Grief is a good state for me to be in, as a parent, because it numbs all of my desires to do more, to prove myself, to be better and to be accomplished.  I "wasted" our entire Christmas break watching movies and playing computer games with my children.  I'm not at all interested in changing the world or helping other people these days - I'd rather play hide and seek with my kids, or do craft projects with them, or cuddle up with them.  Did I sign up to help with that?  Oh, sorry, I have a commitment that evening (read: shopping with my daughter and making up voices for the stuffed animal I bought her).

Alas, other than wondering if it is even worth it to try to be enthusiastic about life and all of it's possibilities this year, I'll be lucky if I accomplish ANYTHING in 2011 (except for missing all the dead people and animals, and also really missing that feeling when we all were young and enthusiastic about life).   What a funny resolution that would be - I resolve to not accomplish anything in 2011!

Irony

It really sucks that after a 13.2 year battle with Dagny's fur, I chose a week and a half ago to take her to the doggie wash and give her the total spa treatment. It was so great - a long bath in a comfortable tub, tons of rubbing and brushing and cooing by me, and she looked so fancy and the old fur was gone - gone from the floor, from the bed, from all over my clothes.  I've had her fur floating around me for all these years and it's driven me crazy, and now, just when I need it, I can barely find one single strand of her fur in this house.

I hate this. 

A love letter to The Truest Love of All

Dear Dagny,
I'm not sure what good it does to write a letter to a dog, and to a dead dog at that, but here we are.  Honestly, though, to me you were not just a dog, and you changed my life to such an extent that you can never be really dead to me, either.

You were my baby.  You were my "truest love of all."  You were the dog my boyfriend and I sang endless singsongs about, we changed the lyric to every song to include your name in it, and we changed our life around to fit you in it in every way possible, too.

When I brought my firstborn child home (and every child after that), I made absolutely positive to come into the house and find you first, to shower you with love and affection, and to insist that you would never ever lose your spot in my heart.  You were utterly convinced - I know that!  You protected those babies - during walks, on the stairs, you stared down any other dog, cat or human who dared come in the room and too near to "your" baby.  The first time the doorbell rang when I was a sleepy new mother at home without her husband, I heard you bark in a way that I would never have imagined you could bark.  I know you would have protected us with your life if given the chance.

You lived in a big family - a messy big family! - with three children, 2 cats, 2 rabbits, 2 guinea pigs, eventually 8 chickens, Bill, and me.  Pets came and went - first a rabbit (replaced by a new rabbit), then the replacement rabbit, then the guinea pig, then our dear first rabbit, then our darling best cat (replaced by New Cat), and then a few chickens - and each time as the tears rolled down my face YOU were the only one standing or lying by me as I dug those graves, or cleaned up after them for the last time.  With that solemn look you had, you too said goodbye to the cat that rubbed on you and that bunny that moved with us through each house we ever owned (5)!  With that solemn look you greeted me when I found out I had breast cancer, when I lost my dad and our dear Sybil.  When it was too much for your sensitive owner you laid with me as I sobbed and you rubbed your face against me.

I knew losing you would destroy me, and so I tried to plan ahead, and I made either the biggest mistake of my life or the best decision ever (for two years now I haven't been able to decide which it was).  That is how we came to bring home Hope.  At the time we thought "Hope" would stand for our decision to keep moving forward in the face of the loss in our family that cancer was promising...and now I know that "Hope" really stands for the hope that I will survive the loss of you.  She absolutely adored you - you were her every-single-thing, her reason for getting up in the morning, the creature she loved more than anything in the world.  And though she was totally annoying, I know that you loved her too, and that you loved having two years of being a dog when you felt like being a dog, and not just being another mother of the Luckens!  I was a little bit right - to see your Luckens playing with her when they are miserable that their good dog is gone is nice.  I was also so very wrong, though - because I can see in her that she, too, has lost her very very best companion, just as I have.  She is my constant reminder that we can never be the same without you.

Thank you, my beautiful dog, for 13 years and 2 months of love and companionship.  I have never ever known a creature to be more faithful to me in the face of all my weaknesses.  Well, ok, your other owner is pretty good at that too - but he has a job and a life that takes him away from me and your job and your life was taking care of me.  What a good job you did!  When I wanted to die, the scruff of your neck and the velvety tips of your ears and your sweet nose brought me back countless times.  It rips my actual heart out of my chest to think that I cannot feel that scruff and those soft ears ever again, that when I have tears they will not be wetting your coat.

Thank you for helping me to become a mother!  Thank you for the dance parties - even when you had arthritis and were getting hard of hearing you would still dance with me every time.  Thank you for all of our long, long, long walks...and thank you for the short, short walks when I was on chemo and could barely get around the corner.  You ran with me, you walked with me, you waited for me, I waited for you, we slept together (for the last few years even in our own bed because you became such a bed hog and I could not kick you out or away from me!), we loved our family.

You gave me so much, sweet pup, but of all your gifts, the biggest one to me was your goodbye.  Thank you so much for fighting so hard to come our of your last surgery, for greeting your whole family one last time with happiness, and for that last and very long rubbing of your face against my hands as I sat with you.  I think we both knew our time together was coming to an end, but only now do I know how short that was and how hard you must have fought to get there to give me that goodbye.  I hope I never forget our last night with me sleeping at your feet instead of you sleeping at mine - as horrible and hard as it was, I am so glad I had it.

It was an honor to be your family, Dagny (D, Dags Dogs, Dogger C, Doggercina, Especiale, DD, precious angel, truest love of all, best girl)...it was an honor to give my heart to you.  Wait for me at our favorite path and someday I will be with you again and we'll walk endlessly through the beautiful woods of heaven.

Apparently we need to make monkey bread.  It looks yucky to this mom, but according to my expert, "We made it in my school and I tried it and it tastes DEElicious!  It's gooder than fruit punch!"

Whoa, there, boy.  Do you remember how much you love fruit punch?  Many a shopping trip has ended up with a bribe/lunchtime stop at "Canera", only because you love the fruit punch.