THE "BEAK-BEAK" YEARS
Chapter One
For the last four years one could hear me call "Beak-Beak!" and a little chicken would run across the yard and follow me mostly into the house where I'd feed her her food supplements so she could live a mostly healthy and normal chicken-life.
As some of you already know, my little Aracauna chicken, CrossBeak, passed away last week. She had been getting weaker, and I more or less expected it, but except for her last day, she had seemed to perk up. Her last day was spent mostly cozying up to me on a cool windy but sunny day while I was weeding my cluttered round flower garden. She was mostly interested in insects I uncovered in the black soil when tracking the snake-like roots of the crabgrass that was taking over. ...But to no avail, for CrossBeak could never get worms or bugs with her crooked beak, and was the reason for almost four years... (or was it five... it seems like forever)... of supplemental feedings for this little survivor of a hen.
When I opened the coop that following day... a warm and sunny day... there she was, peacefully gone with no signs of distress. "Passed away," was a good way of putting it.
I felt a strange combination of grief and relief. These last four years have taught me in a small stupid way what an enormous challenge it must be for people who HAVE TO BE THERE for someone... for a person. A mother of a severely mentally and or physically challenged child, or someone caring for her spouse. I had unending freedoms compared... I know that. One could hardly compare, but I did in some cases. I'm very comfortable staying at home and not going on vacations. I feel that my home is a vacation place, and long to go nowhere else. However, it would have been nice for me to have visited my son's home while he was last in a state as close as Virginia, and now lives in Arizona. But for me to have gone to Virginia Beach would have meant being away for over 3 days, counting travel days, and I kind of gave that a point where Cross Beak couldn't be without me. I couldn't hire anyone or even leave Tom to be able to hand feed this little hen. It wasn't the full reason for this homebody to stay comfortably at home rather than to plan, pack clothes, get everything all set for my being away for half a week, battling traffic, and wondering if I'm going to be constipated and sleepless for those days. CrossBeak wasn't the reason for my hesitation on getting away, but she was that last straw... the tipping point where I'd deem it okay not to go, but to wait until my son; my daughter who is also in Virginia to visit here. They had been coming up regularly twice a year; and infrequently in between my son would visit on occasion when he was in a nearby marathon, or when drawn to this area because an old friend died.
But, saying to ANYBODY, I can't visit because 'I have this little hen who would probably die if I didn't give her supplemental feedings within 4 days' just wouldn't hack it in anyone's book. I can't say I wouldn't be offended myself if someone gave me that excuse. My mother did use her animals as an excuse to go back to Rhode Island as soon as possible after having visited me when she was the grandmother, and it was I who had the small children. I understood, but the grandchildren really didn't, and felt a bit estranged from their own grandmother. Whereas I live for my grandchildren... Well, I lived for them when they were small delights. Let's admit it, as they grow older, I'm not so important anymore. I'm hoping that doesn't happen, but it seems to be happening ever since each family's children reach school age. They don't visit as frequently, and as I'm growing older, it is just more difficult--with or without anything but age holding me back. Let's face it, if I go somewhere and can't get enough sleep, you may as well call me driving impaired when I leave to go home. I guess it's airline time when it comes to visiting further than 300 mile distances anymore.
However, along with the grief I felt at losing this little chicken, my mind has been chewing on the idea of the freedom I now have now that her life is no longer demanding my presence. Yes, I miss my little hen, but this morning I was thinking about how much money I spent on unsalted peanuts and sunflower hearts alone. If I had that four years worth of money spent, I'm sure I could get a discount round-trip flight to Virginia Beach. I can afford it regardless, and, though I hate air travel because of the constricts of it: not having my own car at the other end; the wait and the new safety precautions causing them to even inspect my sneakers for bombs; the cramped seating on flights, I'm thinking of taking a trip. So, I'm thinking of going,though I still have this basic fear of flying. After all, it's not like you could pull over to the closest cloud should something happen to the engine; or if a disgruntled passenger caused trouble; or if a baby just couldn't be comforted and cried for the whole time from one end to the other. But, I'll tough it out. Watch out, Virginia Beach... You may be getting a visit from Grandma!
[A note to August. After the Virginia Beach visit... especially if all goes well, I'll probably be tackling a further visit, though it will probably be fall by then. Please know you're welcome here. Maybe you'd like to take a break to a cooler place up here in Northeast Pennsylvania during your long hot 6 month summer.]
Chapter One
For the last four years one could hear me call "Beak-Beak!" and a little chicken would run across the yard and follow me mostly into the house where I'd feed her her food supplements so she could live a mostly healthy and normal chicken-life.
As some of you already know, my little Aracauna chicken, CrossBeak, passed away last week. She had been getting weaker, and I more or less expected it, but except for her last day, she had seemed to perk up. Her last day was spent mostly cozying up to me on a cool windy but sunny day while I was weeding my cluttered round flower garden. She was mostly interested in insects I uncovered in the black soil when tracking the snake-like roots of the crabgrass that was taking over. ...But to no avail, for CrossBeak could never get worms or bugs with her crooked beak, and was the reason for almost four years... (or was it five... it seems like forever)... of supplemental feedings for this little survivor of a hen.
When I opened the coop that following day... a warm and sunny day... there she was, peacefully gone with no signs of distress. "Passed away," was a good way of putting it.
I felt a strange combination of grief and relief. These last four years have taught me in a small stupid way what an enormous challenge it must be for people who HAVE TO BE THERE for someone... for a person. A mother of a severely mentally and or physically challenged child, or someone caring for her spouse. I had unending freedoms compared... I know that. One could hardly compare, but I did in some cases. I'm very comfortable staying at home and not going on vacations. I feel that my home is a vacation place, and long to go nowhere else. However, it would have been nice for me to have visited my son's home while he was last in a state as close as Virginia, and now lives in Arizona. But for me to have gone to Virginia Beach would have meant being away for over 3 days, counting travel days, and I kind of gave that a point where Cross Beak couldn't be without me. I couldn't hire anyone or even leave Tom to be able to hand feed this little hen. It wasn't the full reason for this homebody to stay comfortably at home rather than to plan, pack clothes, get everything all set for my being away for half a week, battling traffic, and wondering if I'm going to be constipated and sleepless for those days. CrossBeak wasn't the reason for my hesitation on getting away, but she was that last straw... the tipping point where I'd deem it okay not to go, but to wait until my son; my daughter who is also in Virginia to visit here. They had been coming up regularly twice a year; and infrequently in between my son would visit on occasion when he was in a nearby marathon, or when drawn to this area because an old friend died.
But, saying to ANYBODY, I can't visit because 'I have this little hen who would probably die if I didn't give her supplemental feedings within 4 days' just wouldn't hack it in anyone's book. I can't say I wouldn't be offended myself if someone gave me that excuse. My mother did use her animals as an excuse to go back to Rhode Island as soon as possible after having visited me when she was the grandmother, and it was I who had the small children. I understood, but the grandchildren really didn't, and felt a bit estranged from their own grandmother. Whereas I live for my grandchildren... Well, I lived for them when they were small delights. Let's admit it, as they grow older, I'm not so important anymore. I'm hoping that doesn't happen, but it seems to be happening ever since each family's children reach school age. They don't visit as frequently, and as I'm growing older, it is just more difficult--with or without anything but age holding me back. Let's face it, if I go somewhere and can't get enough sleep, you may as well call me driving impaired when I leave to go home. I guess it's airline time when it comes to visiting further than 300 mile distances anymore.
However, along with the grief I felt at losing this little chicken, my mind has been chewing on the idea of the freedom I now have now that her life is no longer demanding my presence. Yes, I miss my little hen, but this morning I was thinking about how much money I spent on unsalted peanuts and sunflower hearts alone. If I had that four years worth of money spent, I'm sure I could get a discount round-trip flight to Virginia Beach. I can afford it regardless, and, though I hate air travel because of the constricts of it: not having my own car at the other end; the wait and the new safety precautions causing them to even inspect my sneakers for bombs; the cramped seating on flights, I'm thinking of taking a trip. So, I'm thinking of going,though I still have this basic fear of flying. After all, it's not like you could pull over to the closest cloud should something happen to the engine; or if a disgruntled passenger caused trouble; or if a baby just couldn't be comforted and cried for the whole time from one end to the other. But, I'll tough it out. Watch out, Virginia Beach... You may be getting a visit from Grandma!
[A note to August. After the Virginia Beach visit... especially if all goes well, I'll probably be tackling a further visit, though it will probably be fall by then. Please know you're welcome here. Maybe you'd like to take a break to a cooler place up here in Northeast Pennsylvania during your long hot 6 month summer.]
posted by Cranberry Jo @ 4/20/2009 11:13:00 AM
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