Swan Sanctuary

I am on my way this morning to pick up my just-hatched peeps. Like any “new mom” I am stressing about whether or not I am doing everything right. Is the brooder warm enough? Have I remembered everything that they will need for the first few days? I remind myself that chickens have been domesticated for nearly as long as we humans. Our ancestors did not have the fancy thermometers and heat lamps, and elaborate coops, but their chickens thrived all the same. I just need to relax because I know any anxiety that I am emitting will transfer to the chickens. They will be fine. I will be fine.

When I was caring for swans, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the cygnets being led about by the parents. I offered additional feed at the shoreline and the pen and the cob would cautiously bring their brood around to eat it. I adored them, but I was not responsible for their care and safety. A few years earlier I had helped to raise cygnets that we hatched in an incubator. Six hatched, but only three survived. Generally, one or two hatchlings are lost, in spite of the careful attention given to them by the most devoted swan parents. There was a pair that I looked after that hatched seven cygnets – the most I had seen in the time I spent there. I named them after the seven dwarves. Their picture is the one displayed at the top of my website. While the success rate in our breeding program was mostly successful, some were lost to snapping turtles or met with a similar demise. This is nature’s way and although I expect my baby chickens to thrive, I know that in spite of all the precautions I take, things can go wrong. Right now though, I will not entertain that thought. I am off to bring them to their new home. I will keep you posted in blogs to come.

The trees have finally leafed out and my soul feels like it is wrapped in a sea of green. The tree at the northeast corner of my house can be seen from two windows. It is the tree that is visible from my desk and where I often see a squirrel napping on one of the lower branches. I am grateful to the previous owners for having the foresight to plant trees. It takes no more than a few hours to plant a tree, but the rewards last for decades. If every homeowner planted at least one tree on their property, the benefits to other species and to the planet would be immeasurable. Ideally, they should plant several trees. In The Hidden Life of Trees, written by Peter Wohlleben and Jane Billinghurst, it is revealed that trees have families to which they are connected underground. It must be lonely to be the only tree on the block.

Trees have many favorable attributes that most people are aware of. They provide shade. They can cool our homes in the intensity of summer heat. They provide privacy and serve as a barrier to brutal snowstorms. Many have flowers that are appreciated by emerging insects in spring, before other flowers have bloomed. They are beautiful to look at and they add height to a flat landscape. They help to hold the soil in place and prevent erosion. They offer home and food to millions of insects – especially oak trees – and to birds and even some mammals. Trees do much more than the obvious; however. Trees are the perfect mentor if we are willing to absorb their wisdom. They have worked out how to give and take, how to bend in the wind, and how to remain rooted in being. To sit and gaze at a tree is kind of like looking into the eyes of another human being. They do not have the mobility that we are accustomed to, but they do not seem to mind. They have the advantage of an elevated point of view and can “see” for miles. When I observe a very ancient tree, I often wonder what secrets it has kept. What has it been privy to over the course of its lifetime?

Scientists have told us that planting trees can make a big difference in reversing the damage that is being caused by the accumulation of greenhouse gases in our atmosphere. It would actually take about 500 trees to sequester all of the carbon created by just one human being in a year. If you want to lessen your carbon footprint, consider planting at least one tree this summer. You can find inexpensive, small saplings at the Arbor Day Foundation, or if you wait until closer to autumn, many trees are sold at half price. If you do not have property on which to plant one, there are forests that will happily accept your donation.

In recent years many people have taken up raising chickens. Like me, there are those who could not conceive of eating their chickens. I am not even particularly fond of eggs; however, I use them often in my baking. I am a senior citizen so having more children is clearly out of the question, but the instinctual drive to nurture remains strong. Caring for animals, whether wild or domestic, is in my DNA.

When I was barely more than a toddler and lived with my grandmother in a small mountain town of Colorado, I was made to catch the chicken. Once it was caught, my grandmother set its head on the chopping block, severing its head from its body with an axe. It would then run around for a bit without its head. Afterwards, I was given the job of plucking out its feathers. This was normal country life for people in my grandmother’s era. They did not become attached to those animals that would be their dinner.

When my grandparents bought me a duckling for Easter, I was ecstatic. Naturally, due to imprinting, Quacky followed me everywhere. I never got to see her grow up because a short time later I was taken back to live with my mother. I received a letter from Grandma to let me know that Quacky had died when the lid to her box fell on her head. I accepted this news (with tears, of course) never questioning that this was the truth; but decades later, after relating the story to my husband, he suggested that my grandparents probably ate her for Sunday dinner. He was probably right.

Three years ago I had three chickens, but I had to give them up when I moved. I was broken hearted because of course I had become quite attached to them. The day after tomorrow I will be getting five peeps to raise and love. I am so excited. I have already picked out names for them. I adore cats and I love dogs, too; but chickens return so much more than what you give them. In a few months’ time they will begin laying eggs – probably far more than I can use. I know that I can shower my chickens with copious amounts of love and they will provide me with beautiful eggs that also happen to be a perfect protein. When they grow old and stop laying, I will continue to care for them as I would a cat or dog that had finally reached its senior years. Eating them though – never!

Isolation is nothing new to me. I would have spent the past several months alone regardless of the pandemic. Being alone is something one gets used to. At some point you realize that being alone is preferable than being in a crowd. It becomes comfortable and in a way, safe. There is no need to apologize to anyone if you lose your temper. If you are feeling moody or melancholy, it isn’t necessary to explain to anyone, why you are feeling down. You can set your own schedule, eat what you choose, when you choose, and wear funky, mismatched clothes. Nobody sees you, so there is no need for makeup or even a need to smile, unless you feel like it.

Naturally, one misses companionship. One on one conversations and dinner for two would be nice, but you learn to enjoy your own company. You do those things that make you happy and you don’t need to worry about acceding to someone else’s wants or needs. There are drawbacks of course. If you are sitting on your porch or working in your garden during the summer months, the laughter and aroma of barbecue from your neighbor’s family gatherings can be difficult to ignore. They are reminders of just how alone you really are.

The difficult part is the lack of physical nearness and touching that one experiences in a relationship. I do not mean sex. Sometimes the desire to simply be held by someone or to engage in a meaningful hug leaves one feeling a kind of insatiable hunger. People who live alone often have dogs or cats to keep them company. I am grateful for my cat. He insists upon several minutes of having his head scratched every day. I often ask him why he doesn’t do the same for me. Obviously, even if he could, his claws would leave me bloody; so I settle for his strong purring. It isn’t quite as satisfying as a hug nor is it as stimulating as a conversation, but it does calm me. It soothes my soul and that is the most that I can ask for.

It’s always something. It it’s not one thing, it’s another. If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all. We have all heard these statements. Perhaps we have even said them ourselves. The irony is that these statements are true. No matter how well planned our day, our event, or our vacation; something will occur to challenge it. The appliance, or our car, breaks down. We come down with a cold or have a fender bender. The zipper on our favorite pair of jeans pulls apart. The cat throws up on our just laundered bedding or the dog has an “accident” in the house. We drop and break our favorite cup or our girlfriend breaks up with us. Our marriage, or something less significant, disappoints us. We get the cancer diagnosis. The hailstorm decimates the garden we had spent weeks growing. The new shoes we ordered are the wrong size. We burned a perfect dinner. Someone rains on our parade or bursts our balloon; but life goes on and we cope.

The problems that occur on a daily basis are only problems if we choose to make them so. Sure, they are inconvenient. We can lament and complain, which only creates more of the same. Or, we can laugh, say oh well, and let it go. We cannot, in most circumstances, let the situation go entirely. Often, we must find solutions, remedy situations, and take action; but we must let the annoyance, the resistance, the anger, and all of the negative emotions pass over us. Giving away our power to those somethings, by dwelling on them, suppresses our inner joy. It keeps us captive in a prison of our own making. We are the only one who can free us from the misery created by our own thinking. When we free ourselves from the gravity of our miss-guided perceptions, the little inconveniences are resolved quickly and easily. The bigger challenges may take more time, but if we keep our eye on the rainbow and not on the rain, all things are sorted out in the end. In the end, the misfortune often turns out to be a blessing.

The new moon, they say, is the best time to begin a new endeavor. Beginning something new on a new moon, supposedly gives it a better chance of success. Whether or not there is any truth to this, I have put a lot of stock in the belief, just in case. I like to garden by the moon whenever possible. Generally, crops that grow above ground should be sown or planted at the new moon or when the moon is waxing – making its steady, slow assent to becoming full. Those plants that grow below ground and which we use their roots, such as carrots, potatoes, turmeric, ginseng, and Jerusalem artichoke, are best planted during the waning moon. I cut my hair only on those days that are said to encourage its growth. I even got married once on a new moon in the belief that the marriage would endure. It lasted fifteen years, so who’s to say? Nothing is permanent.

I have often pondered the many things that influence our lives. We are born with traits unique to whatever astrological sign we were born under. The numbers influenced by the letters in our names, which is the basis of numerology, seems to be surprisingly valid, as well. Our family genes and our childhood environment have a large impact on what sort of person we will become. The country that we are born in and the time in history all have their influence on us. We are what we eat and we cannot deny the detrimental effects that poor diet, sugar overload, and drugs can have on our emotions and our response to everyday life. We can influence our muscles through exercise and improve our health with good nutrition. If all of these things were not enough to complicate the issue of who we think we are, we are also strongly influenced by hormones, or lack of them. We can have hormonal and chemical imbalances that throw many of our other autonomic physical processes into chaos. The bottom line, though, is that we have free will – or at least we think we do. Maybe our planet is just a big ship in the universe and we are being tossed about by the waves of something mysterious and ominous. Regardless how much power the phases of the moon have over our lives, it is best just to enjoy the ride of life before we get thrown off into the abyss.