A tiny heartbreak

- Spiny Blooms -

In the business of raising chickens, there are a lot of cute, fuzzy chicks hatched, but many more die than live. Some fail to thrive, some drown, get stomped, get eaten or pecked by another hen, or accidentally get hit by their own mother when she flails around trying to protect her babies. There are many ways for a chick to die. Dead chicks are no big deal, usually.

Right now we have a few survivors: Bim and Bam, the Rosemary Hen's large chicks that have been adopted by Rosie 2, the other hen who was setting under the rosemary bush; Bin One Hen's little one; and the little Asil Hen's five tiny chicks. There was one other, the Shop Hen, who had a little brown chick.

The little brown chick got its leg broken a couple of weeks ago, and I never thought it would make it. If there's a defect or wound, I've learned to give up hope quickly.

That little chick got stronger, though, and had finally just about completely healed by last Friday. It was a joy to see it running after its mother as she pecked and clucked and scratched up tidbits for the little thing.

The next morning, though, the little chick was nowhere to be found. Something had gotten it during the night while it roosted in the shop with its mother.

I was about to get into my truck to go to work when Charles, the chicken expert of this place, said, "Look, she's sad about her chick."

I looked over and saw the mama hen sitting on top of the big gate, her back to us and her head hanging low. I don't think I've seen many sadder sights. It tore my heart in two.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the chicken while I was thinking my thoughts, then Charles said it was time to get on to work, so I got in my vehicle and drove off.

I told myself it was silly to cry for a chicken. I told myself babies die all the time and I think nothing of it. I reminded myself of people who had died lately that I had not wept over. Then I cried over that sad mama chicken and her little brown chick.

Sometimes, I can't explain or justify feelings, and, sometimes, I fall in love with chickens.