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A very true Spring story -
Spring has finally arrived. Well, it arrived about three weeks ago, but I'm just getting around to actually typing something about it.
Many new things are happening in my world.
All mostly very very good things.
Our garden is absolutely s p e c t a c u l a r this year.
First it was the early spring irises and a couple of random crocuses.
Shortly thereafter, we discovered that our lettuce, kale, purple cabbage and parsley had somehow wintered over and was starting to take hold. And the beets and the chard made it too.
And the red worms in the worm bin. Even they made it.
I love the sound of healthy cell division in the morning!
The last few weeks brought us bearded and beardless irises, Wind Flowers, monster ferns, and many many roses.
Ohhhhhh, the roses.
. . . sigh . . .
Talk about lush.
And the B I G surprise was that the universe brought us a chicken.
Yes, a chicken. Actually a 4 week old gold and black chick.
On May 3rd, 2009. Imagine that.
Actually, imagine this.
A four or so week old, four or so ounce chick, brought home by the neighbor's cat, through two, yes TWO cat doors and found around midnight, May 3rd, chirping behind a toilet bowl.
Imagine getting ready to go to bed, sitting on the can and hearing something chirping behind the bowl. Can you do that? I can't. Butt (pun intended) it's true and that's just the way it happened.
The neighbor has not just one cat, not two, but F O U R cats. Count'em F O U R cats. Four freakin' cats. Three of which are ratters. And good ones. When we have a "problem" with something unknown in our garage, we send one of them in. A day or two later. The "problem" is gone. Really. No shit. That's how it works here.
These cats catch rats, play with them, sometimes bite their heads off, sometimes bringing them into the house as offering of "gifts" for the hands that feed them.
These cats catch birds. I've seen the litter of feathers in the yard.
And, in fact, just the other day, this past Sunday, there's Dargo, who's a big and very thick black cat with emerald green eyes, sitting in our other neighbors tree. Y E S, sitting in the freakin' tree, about ten feet up eying the sparrows and finches who hang there. Like he's watching Bird TV. We chided him, but he didn't budge much. Then we got busy again and sort of forgot about him.
Oh yeah, back to the chicken story.
This chick, who is now named Charma, was totally unscathed. Not an injured feather upon her body, head, feet or wings to be found. Like she was "just meant to be". Alive. And not breakfast, lunch, supper or dinner for the cat who found her and brought her home. We don't really know which of the three cats it was that carried her into the neighbor's house. All we can do is make an educated guess. The important bits are that, she's alive, healthy and living in a big cage in our kitchen. Just a side note, we have three cats and four rabbits. But that's a story for another time.
After posting signs on the local telephone poles and getting no response, and posting to the Chicken Lovers (meetup.com) group, and still not getting a "I/we lost a chic" reply, we decided to keep her. And I'm really glad we did. Really glad. What a little bundle of joy. She poops little bundles too, but that's OK. I know how to clean. Watching her grow has been one of the amazing parts about keeping her. She puts on about point 2 ounces a day now. Her feathers grow out bigger and fluffier every day. Did I mention soft? And she's very soft. And lovable. I had NO idea that one could love a chicken. How very sweet.
And her sweet chortles and chirps. And the way she nods off when I hold her.
Very very adorable.
I never knew. How could I? I never had a chicken before.
But this one is special, different than any other.
She survived a trip in a cat's mouth from who knows where and for how long.
A walk through two cat doors to be presented to three other cats on the other side of the second cat door. And possibly a night or two of exposure outside in 50 degree temperatures without any food or water.
Now T H A T' S a survivor if I ever saw one.
Those reality game show people ain't got nothin' on this bird.
And T H E N, it happened a g a i n.
What happened again you ask? Heh, funny you should ask.
Well, two weeks ago, the neighbor, Kris, the one who found Charma comes to our backdoor holding what? Another chick! Yes, yet another chick.
My partner said to her, "You've got to be fvcking kidding me!?!".
What the. . .
Anyway, now we're the resident chick experts, since we've been through this once before.
This one wasn't as lucky as Charma. She, or he, as we're not really sure, had a smallish flesh wound on it's left side under it's wing. A little aloe vera salve on the wound, some food, water, a heating pad and a few days and nights of TLC and it's starting to recover. I initially gave it a 50/50 chance because it wasn't looking so great. But after a few days the odds improved to about 99/1.
Once again, a walk around the neighborhood, my partner with stapler and "Found Chick" flyer's in hand, stapled them to the local telephone poles.
And later, there we were, thinking and talking, "Now what?".
Should we keep this one too? What is the universe trying to tell us anyway?
We must have chickens? Is the chicken a symbol of something else?
Are you pregnant? Am I pregnant?
We're a little confused, but not so much as perplexed.
I'm perplexed because now city chickens are in vogue.
They're everywhere. Literally everywhere.
I can't not read a story or see a photo of city chickens.
Stories and photos in the local paper.
Stories and photos in many of the local magazines.
And now this story and photographs.
Oh, how chic am I? Obviously very chic.
I didn't ask for this chic'ness. I've been blessed by the chicken gods.
Questions...
Where A R E these chicks coming from?
Must be local. Has to be local.
These cats do not cross busy suburban streets.
These cats do not go out of their way to bring home birds they are obviously not going to snack on.
This chick got named Sylvia, after its silver and black feathers with a downy fluffy rear-end.
We were all hoping that it was another girl.
Then a few days later it happened. The unexpected.
No, not that. Not another chick.
That would be just way over-the-top and I'd simply have to move far far away.
We got the call. Someone called, fessed up and said they lost a chick.
The telephone pole flyer's worked. Hey. Wait. Oh no!
For a moment I was frantic.
What should we do? Do we "own" her now? Do we have to give her back?
We've had it a few days. It's really cute! sigh...
Anyway, as it turned out, the right thing to do was to get the chick back to its rightful owner.
The Owner lives in the same block area as we do, just one block over.
The Owner invites us over, shows us her "girls" and their coop, tells us a few chicken stories and a fresh egg joke, which I am not at liberty to repeat here, and then we're on our merry way back home. Sylvia is home, we're home, everyone is happy.
All-in-all, these chain of events are pretty fantastic if you ask me. Never, ever, in my lifetime will this ever occur again. I'm one lucky guy.
Right now, I'm waiting for my first egg and I can't wait.
Truth is indeed (as seen on TV) stranger than fiction.
- Robert Cazares
- June 10th, 2009
- All Rights Reserved
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Robert Cazares is a photographer and writer transplanted from Long Island, New York and is currently living in Seattle, WA.
He lives with his partner, Plugra who provides daily inspiration and artistic support. They enjoy vegetable and flower gardening, pet rescue, bread making, fresh foods, sustainable living, motorcycles, classic motor homes and a plethora of too many things to mention.
Robert is currently available for assignments and can be contacted at robertcazares@gmail.com.
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