Chicken... For The Soul

"Kate," I called to my friend and co-volunteer as I lifted a rabbit out of its cage and tucked it under my shoulder, "Did you notice the chicken in the gift shop?"

Kate glanced up from the rabbit that she was attempting to coax from behind a litter box. "No! They have a chicken in there? I love chickens!"

"Me too." I ignored the squirming of the little fellow in my arms as I waited for her to retrieve another soon-to-be-socialized-rabbit.

Together, we walked through the hallways of the animal shelter toward the "socialization area." At the entrance to the gift shop we paused, rabbits in our arms, to peer through the glass.

"Do you see it?" I asked.

"No....." Her head craned to the left and to the right, and she shifted a few feet toward me.

Just as I spotted a bundle of rust-orange feathers, Kate exclaimed in delight. "There she is! Oh, she's beautiful......"

She was beautiful. Her orangeness was unparalleled, and - having been given free reign of the gift shop - she strutted about in a manner that only a confident chicken can.

Step. Head bob. Chest out. Step. Head bob. Chest out. Step. Head bob. Chest out. Head bob. Head bob. Step.

Kate and I watched, entranced by her beauty, until the rabbits' gentle nips and wiggles grew not-so-gentle and we finished our journey to the bunny day rendevous.

Hours later, as we trekked back and forth in our efforts to return the now-socialized rabbits to their assigned cages, we paused again at the gift shop door. This time, the pretty hen was loitering near the entrance, examining the floor closely for wayward foodstuffs like caterpillars.

I clicked softly at her with my tongue, and cleverly called for her. "Here chicken, chicken, chicken," I sing-songed. "Here chicken."

I was rewarded for my efforts with a look that can only be described as "chicken contempt." If you have never seen this look, I advise you to take great measures to avoid it.

The hen fixed me with the contemptuous look for a considerable length of time (for a chicken) - at least 20 seconds. Having made her point, she returned her gaze to the floor and lower shop shelves, moving her head from side to side as she scanned the area closely. Her chicken savvy was stunning. It was obvious that no insect or spider stood a chance in this gift shop. What a clever idea! I thought. I should keep a chicken in my storage unit! (I have been scarred permanently by the sight of the freaky house centipede - HAIRY house centipede - that I caught scurrying up the wall of my storage room.... but that's another story.) My enthusiasm dimmed somewhat as I considered the fact that I would need to either move into the storage unit myself or only take my chicken for supervised visits, as I would feel too guilty to leave it in there all alone. Perhaps it wasn't such a clever idea after all. I obviously could NOT move into a space inhabited by monsters-in-the-guise-of-arthropods. (Did you KNOW that they are carnivorous?!!!)

The chicken continued with her business, determined not to let us interfere with the busy day ahead. At the same moment, Kate and I noticed that something about this chicken was... not quite right.

"What," asked Kate, leaning forward for a better look, "is going on with her beak?"

I was wondering the exact same thing. The end of her beak appeared to... well, actually, it did not appear at all. It was missing. Where the lovely yellow point would be, this chicken had nothing. The beak ended in a very un-beak-like bluntness.

The hen, oblivious to this "problem," had begun preening herself with great flair. Dramatically, she fluffed all of the feathers on the right side of her body and lifted her wing away to tuck her head underneath. Emerging from beneath it, she wagged her tail a bit and glanced up at us. Her look managed to convey both surprise that we were still bothering her and extreme boredom induced by our presence.

We continued to stare as she moved on to the left side, lifting her wing away once again.

Knowing Kate, and the way that she thinks about life (which can be very similar to the way that I think about said topic), I imagine that at that moment we were thinking very similar thoughts. In my head, I was struggling to reconcile my first rush of emotion - pity - with the apparent contentment of the hen before me.

But, a voice in my mind protested - already donned in mourning attire - this chicken is PITIFUL! Look at it! Something horrible must have happened! It will NEVER be the same!!!

From the left second-floor library of my brain came a voice. No, it agreed. The chicken will not be the same. None of us is ever the same from one moment to the next. That is what living does to us.

Ah, someone else had decided to speak up. About time.

But, the first voice protested, increasing in volume, it's a....w....f....u....l! That POOR thing!

The voice from the library returned. Really? Does that chicken look upset to you?

There was no response. Likely because the only time the chicken looked at all upset was when she noticed that we were still staring at her. No doubt she blamed us for the lack of tasty snacks.

I glanced at Kate, wondering what sort of decision her voices were coming to. It was clear - to me - that there was no room for pity in this chicken's day. Without speaking, Kate and I began walking, together, back toward the socialization room to clean up.

It was time to move on.

Something I Would Not Like To Be

I would not like to be a postal delivery person.

Today

Today, I was technically on PTO. ("Paid Time Off" for anyone fortunate enough to be unfamiliar with the term. Bless you - you lovely, uncorrupted thing - whoever you are.) Unfortunately, my extraordinarily demanding workload ensured that I would actually be working, but - at least - from the comfort of my home.

Ah, home....The Animal Reform Home. It is a madhouse here, with critters everywhere. Underfoot, overhead, lounging about... there is no escape. Inevitably there is at least one that is angry with me, a couple that want something from me, and another that is hoping that I won't notice the wicked things that he/she is up to. Despite the chaos, I would not give it up. For what? Whatever would I do with all of my time - the hours a day that I devote to critter care? I feel no desire to come home to an empty, soundless home (though the cleanliness factor is appealing.)

I ramble, yes. I am scattered these days, always thinking of what needs to be done next. I have countless topics that I wish to write about, just not the focus to do so. I will get there. A "?" in progress, as we all are.

Now, I admire the snow. It is lovely. If only all of these buildings weren't in the way of it, it could be REALLY lovely.

Today, during accupuncture, I noticed that a number of the needles placed in the right side of my body - in various spots - felt uncomfortable (dare I even say a bit painful?) going in AND out. That was new. I can't help but wonder what it meant. I shall have to raise the question at my next session.

So... this coming weekend is the office holiday party. Cab rides provided to and fro, and all the alcohol that one can consume is to be provided. The experience is sure to provide copious amounts of writing fodder. Also on the calendar: Annual Christmas Cousin film viewing (only one option for Christmas films this year, sadly), volunteering at the shelter, YOGA, two nights with BECCA!!!! We are planning to see the Swedish vampire film that I've been wanting to watch. Very exciting.

Holy snorefest blog posting.

Sigh.

How my standards have fallen.

Plummeted, one could say.

Justifiably. (The statement that one could make.)

I have no true excuse... only promises of future improvement.

The Case Of The Missing Kresha

Where, oh where, can she be?

HINT: The answer to this riddle begins with "w" and ends with "k." It is NOT a piece of culinary equipment.