Swan Sanctuary

Today marks the one year anniversary that I began writing this blog. In 2007, my sister had suggested that I start blogging, but at the time, I did not have the necessary computer skills. When I began writing it, it crossed my mind that I might one day run out of words; but as long as I have animals, and birds and chickens and a garden, it is doubtful. They are the ever present source of my inspiration and I cannot imagine life without them.

My chickens are becoming acclimated to the shed where I have moved their brooder and I am slowly, but surely, making it into a cozy home for them. They still come up on the back steps in the evening when it is time for bed, huddling together next to my magnetic screen and clamoring  for the most desirable position. Last night I sat on the floor just inside the door and fed them mealworms from my hands. I set Ivy in my lap and began to pet her softly. She was so relaxed that she probably would have slept there all night, if I had let her. The other chickens mellowed out and allowed me to pet them, as well. Buttercup will come over to me often, when I am working in the garden and she makes a kind of warbling sound. Chickens have a vocabulary of somewhere between 24 and 30 different sounds. Most of the time I can distinguish their calls from the many wild birds at my bird feeders – especially the distress calls. 

My baby chicks are nine weeks old now, although they have grown so big that most people would not know the difference between them and a full grown chicken. Technically, they are chicks until just before they reach laying age (20 to 22 weeks) at which time they are referred to as pullets. After they are a year old, they are officially laying chickens, unless they are broilers (grown to become meat). Most chickens do not lay eggs during the winter months, due to decreased daylight hours, so mine will probably not lay any eggs until next spring.

We have been blessed for the past couple of days with copious amounts of rain. It rained on and off during the night and this pattern will continue for most of today. It is cool and damp so I am grateful that the chickens can stay warm and dry in their almost chicken coop. This morning, I took a warm bowl of oatmeal with a touch of cinnamon to them. I am grateful for the rain, for the increased humidity, and for the respite from the 95ᐤF. + days that we have been having. I am grateful for a chance to slow the pace for a day or two from the ongoing gardening tasks and for the contemplative state of mind that I find myself in, in this moment. I am simply – grateful.

I have a smartphone, but it is an inexpensive model. It is frequently telling me that I am running out of storage space. I cannot download any new apps because there apparently is not enough room for them inside my phone. I don’t understand this because I have moved photos to the SD card, and deleted the more ravenous apps, which is supposed to create more internal storage space. Maybe my phone, like my computer, will soon need replacing. Ugh!

Computers remind me in many ways of our human brain. I often hear, “I can’t remember anything”, or “I am always forgetting stuff!” I get this from people my own age who often joke about their forgetfulness, blaming it on old age or a “senior moment”. I hear the same complaint from younger people; however, I am inclined to think our age has very little to do with it. It might have something to do with training. If we are taught at an early age to memorize things, maybe we build that particular muscle in our brain. I have always struggled with remembering details like people’s names, names of movies, books, authors, and the prices of things that I buy. I would never make it as an actress because I would have trouble remembering my lines; or as a singer because I would not remember the lyrics. I can generally remember things that I am particularly fond of, such as a flower or a bird. I am more easily able to retain facts about those things that interest me.

Wouldn’t it be much easier if we could organize information in a file in our head? If we had the option to send some of it to the trash bin, delete, or permanently delete information in our brains, would they be less cluttered? Our ancestors were never confronted with the challenges of too much information. They may have been isolated much of the time and had far fewer people to interact with on a daily basis. It would have been easier for them to remember a name and a face because they did not have the constant input that we have today from television, movies, advertisements, magazines, music, and the numerous conversations that we have in a day. They had more opportunities to sit in silence and to be aware of the life going on around them. Today, we must make a conscious effort to be still and to declutter our minds. Maybe we cannot delete the overload of data in our heads, but we can hit the pause button as often as we like.

I have learned through the years that sometimes, whenever we think we know better than the Spirit that has given us life, we just are not seeing the bigger picture. Learning to let go, to accept, and to trust that higher self within us, allows for the highest and best answers to come forth. I was frustrated and growing more and more anxious about getting the remodeling done for my chicken coop. I am grateful now, that this delay has happened because I can see that my first ideas for it would have been a mistake. Replacing the glass in the windows could be costly, if I find someone else to do it; but I have realized that it may not be the best thing for the chickens. The windows do not open, so getting fresh air in there on summer nights would be impossible. The glass could be broken again by vandals. And, it is impractical for me to spend more money on this property that is not mine. The solution came to me a few days ago. Today I will buy some hardware cloth and staple it on the outside of the window openings. This will allow fresh air in, keep the chickens from escaping through them, and it will keep predators out. When the weather turns cold, I will attach plastic sheeting over the hardware cloth to insulate the building  from the bitter winds. In winter, the south facing windows will help to warm the coop.The light will still get in, which is indispensable to me, since half of the space will be my potting shed. I removed the ugly plastic lattice from my front porch and I will nail it up as a divider between the chicken’s area and my potting area.

There is an existing set of shelves that I had wanted taken out; but I now see that this was another error in judgement. The chickens like to rest on the bottom shelf, which will be warmer for them in cold weather, than the concrete floor. One of the upper shelves can be made into nest boxes when they begin laying next spring. I have found some lovely, dead and very strong tree branches that I will use for their perches, which is a far more natural alternative to using wooden dowels or pre-cut wood. Most of this I can do by myself and I will only need help to re-hang the door that is currently sitting propped up next to the coop.

I am so grateful that what I had perceived as a problem was not a problem at all – it was a blessing.

At long last, I have achieved some mastery of the learning curve presented with my new computer and I am up and running again. Thanks to those more knowledgeable than me, I am no longer using Microsoft Office, a program for which I had paid over $100 on my old computer. I have discovered the worry-free (and actually, free) Google Docs, which automatically saves my writing and I will always have access to it even if my new computer crashes at some point in the future. Yay! I am learning also, the idiosyncrasies of the touchpad and can hopefully give up dependence on my mouse. No doubt, things will change again much sooner than I would like, but for now at least, I feel I can keep up with the crowd, albeit at the back of the pack. It reminds me of my running days. I was never the slowest runner when I was running the Bolder Boulder and other 10K races, but I was clearly one of the last pairs of legs to cross the finish line. I have often thought of myself as living in the wrong century and in the wrong place; but I know better now. I am exactly where I am supposed to be at this moment, doing the best that I can.

I have finally posted all of my blogs on my website that I have written since my computer crashed nearly a month ago. You can read them there if you wish and beginning today, they will be posted regularly once again. Thank you, to all of you who have taken the time to read them. Namaste.

Fear appears to have taken over the minds of the majority of people. Two of my daughters live in Colorado where it is now mandatory to wear a face mask whenever you go out in public, or risk a $1000 fine. Here in my small community in Wyoming, it only recently became required at the local Safeway. Has all common sense flown out the window? Or, is this a conspiracy to actually make more people sick, while convincing them that it is going to prevent the spread of coronavirus? Is the reason that Trump refuses to wear a mask because he knows that it is all a hoax? 

My instincts are telling me that wearing a mask for several hours at a time, as the employees at public places are required to do, is hazardous to your health and may in fact, make people more susceptible. Breathing in the same stale air along with carbon dioxide is not a healthy practice. I do not even like sleeping with my head under the covers because my body requires fresh air. It is, in fact, my preference, to sleep with a cool breeze blowing across my face. Air is the most vital element needed to sustain life and we cannot live more than a few minutes without it. Does it really make any sense to cover that part of our body that is so essential and necessary for our life?

If someone is exposed to the virus, would it not invariably find its way onto and into their face mask, where the warm moist air will provide the perfect environment for it to thrive? Is the American public, as well as those in other major countries, simply being fed a spoonful of lies? I am not the only one questioning the enforcement of what makes absolutely NO SENSE. Is it morally and ethically right for masks to be compulsory? Has the world gone mad? The governments do not want the people to think for themselves or to question their authority or their motives. So, let me reiterate what I implored in the writing of my book, Question Everything – Question everything!

Ever since I was a kid, whenever a storm was brewing, I would go into cleaning mode. A few days ago the skies grew very dark, the wind increased its intensity by several miles per hour, and the radar showed a gigantic rain storm heading towards us. Then, as happens all too often here in Wheatland, the clouds parted. Some swept away to the southeast and the rest to the northeast, but we did not get a single drop of rain. I am not sure why this happens, but I suspect that it has something to do with the elevation. At any rate, I was able to complete some house cleaning that up until then, I had neglected in lieu of my more pressing gardening projects.

I do not know the psychological reasons for my cleaning frenzies at the threat of a severe storm. Perhaps it is akin to the nesting instinct exhibited by a mother who is about to go into labor. Maybe it is just my basic need to feel safe. Much like the squirrels that stock up nuts to see her through the winter, we humans often stock up on winter clothing. We “winterize” our automobiles and our homes for storms that are yet to come. I know logically, that if my home is hit by a tornado, it will not make one iota of difference, whether or not it is clean and orderly. Still, this compulsion that I have, to clean, seems to be a kind of basic instinct that is embedded in my genes. Maybe this behavior is unique to me – an eccentric idiosyncrasy of me, alone. 

I love storms. I love the power that moves them and I am appreciative that it is the one thing my fellow man is not able to control. We can prepare for storms and be alerted when they are imminent; but we are still at Mother Nature’s mercy – thankfully!

I know that hierarchy exists in the natural world. Social order is especially prevalent among European honey bees, most ant species, many coyotes, gorillas, and numerous others. It seems that the greater the number of individuals, the greater need there is for some kind of social cooperation. While the world at times seems chaotic and disheveled, structure and precision always emerge from it. 

My baby chickens are eight weeks old now. For the past couple of weeks they have been working on establishing their pecking order. They have discovered that they have wings and on windy days they make attempts at flying in spite of the fact that they will never attain more than a few feet of altitude. They fly at one another, puffing up their breasts in a face off and call out chicken expletives. It isn’t nearly as serious as the fighting you would see between roosters, but fighting for place in the hierarchy seems to be a basic instinct, even among our own species.

Jealousy, too, while considered a base and unhealthy emotion by society’s standards, is common in many species. We often see jealousy between one family pet and another, in addition to that which occurs between siblings. Jealousy is the emotion that gives rise to rivalry, which is all about survival of the fittest. Abusive husbands and boyfriends are motivated by jealousy. The same is true for women who are spiteful to other women. Most likely, all of us have experienced some form of jealousy at one point or another in our lives; but recognizing it and understanding that it is really just another survival instinct, allows us to simply observe it and let it go. We do not need to give it power. 

My role as surrogate mom to five chickens is giving me insight into their social behavior. Animals are so much like us and I pity those scientists and religious fanatics who cannot see that all species are our relatives. All living things, including trees and plant life, are our relatives and we must learn to relate to all of them with kindness.

Chickens, I have realized, rarely have the benefit of growing up under the nurturing and guidance of a chicken mother. Generally, they and their siblings are left to their own devices to discover what plants are safe to eat and which ones are potentially poisonous to them. Many of the things they do are instinctual, such as scratching and pecking the soil and taking dust baths. They know intuitively when it is time for bed. They sleep in a pile on top of one another as close as they can get, until they begin to sleep on a perch, where they crowd  side by side, as closely as possible to each other. 

Waterfowl and most birds generally bond with the first other sentient being that they see, after emerging from the egg. This is known as imprinting and this is why they will follow around a human being who has cared for them since hatching. I take my role as surrogate mom very seriously. Some chickens are naturally more friendly than others, just as some children tend to be more sociable. One of my five chickens, Ivy, has grown especially fond of me and whenever I am bending down in the garden or squatting down to give them a bowl of water or food, she immediately flies up onto my back. A couple of the others will often fly up there with her, so I have had, on occasion, three chickens on my back at once. I am certain that this is quite a spectacle for any observing neighbors!

Several times a day they come up on my back steps simply to be near me. I would be tempted to let them into the house to follow me around if they didn’t poop everywhere. Ivy is so sweet. I can sit her on my leg and pet her where she completely relaxes and  closes her eyes, willing to take a nap there. I love having their company when I am working in the garden. They help me by controlling the grasshopper population. I know that I am a poor substitute as a real chicken mom, but I love my chickens and I know they love me.

Once upon a time, a firm handshake was as good as a promise. Before there were contracts and lawyers and litigation and lawsuits, people would stand behind their word. Your reputation was at stake after all, so you would not risk falling back on what was essentially, a verbal contract. 

When I moved to this town two years ago, a woman had helped me to sort out the changes that I needed to make to Medicare since I had moved to a new state. During one of our meetings, we discovered that we both loved chickens. I was distraught at the time because I had needed to give my previous chickens up, not being able to find a place where I could keep them. Earlier this year, I mentioned to her that I was in a new place and that I was planning to get baby chickens. My landlord had agreed to let me remodel an existing shed into a chicken coop. My new friend was excited for me and said that her husband was in construction and they would help me to make the alterations to the shed.

Towards the end of April, she brought her husband by so that he could have a look at what needed to be done. He put out his hand to shake mine. I hesitated slightly – not because of the new fear that had blossomed from Corona-virus – but because I have painful, arthritic hands that have been squeezed too tightly before, by over-zealous hand shakers. It seemed as though he was trying to impress me and he made a suggestion that would have required further permission from my landlord. He told me that he already had the glass needed for repairing the windows and plenty of extra chicken wire for the run. After getting an emphatic “no” from my landlord, I texted his wife to let her know that we would need to come up with an alternative plan. Her text messages were always very positive and she said her husband would drop in the following Sunday to see what could be done. He never came by, so I texted her again after two weeks had passed to see if I had missed him. He showed up two days later without warning. I sensed a change in his attitude, but he said it would be easy and that he would be here the following Tuesday (the 23rd of June) at 8 a.m. to begin the project. He never showed up and when I texted his wife on Friday, she apologized and said she had given him my phone number. I texted her again three weeks later, but I have not heard from either of them since. 

Is it just me, or has this become normal behavior for people? I want to give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps there has been a death in the family. Maybe they went camping and do not have cell service, or they are on vacation. Maybe she dropped her phone in the lake. But seriously, what has happened to integrity, and to professionalism, and common courtesy? Am I wrong to expect a simple explanation? If he does not want to do this, couldn’t they just kindly let me know? I understand that people are often busy during summer, but it feels insulting when someone cannot even take a moment to respond. I have concluded that for whatever their reason, they are blowing me off. 

My chickens are seven weeks old now and they are growing too big for their brooder. I will complete as much of the work on the coop as I can, by myself. I know that my needs are always met and that the chicken coop will be done in the perfect way and in the perfect time. I guess common courtesy is a value that has been delegated to the past.

Life is a funny thing. At any given moment, all sentient beings are experiencing something different. A baby is being born somewhere in the world while at the same moment another person is dying. People are saying hello to one another, or saying goodbye. A couple may be getting married while another has just become legally divorced. Someone is crying. Someone is laughing. A young man is listening to rock ‘n roll and another to classical music. People are going to bed on one side of the world, waking up on the other. Someone is having an orgasm, and someone else is committing murder. A muslim may be saying prayers while an atheist contemplates suicide. A young woman is eating a strict vegan diet, while another is stuffing herself with fast food. Chickens are foraging and birds are putting away calories for fall migration. Predators are dining on freshly killed prey, while a mother coyote nurses her pups. Butterflies are sipping nectar from flowers and nocturnal bats are sleeping soundly in their den. A homeless man sits on the sidewalk with an empty stare while a bald old man with a protruding belly dines at the finest restaurant. 

Billions of species, including humans are experiencing the very same moment in billions of different ways. Each sees the world through their own perception and still, we are all connected to the one life that encompasses all life. We are connected invisibly to the source of that life, and to each other. It is one moment and it is everyone’s moment, to be experienced in their own unique way. In this moment, we are all one – one world, one life.