LESSONS FROM LUCY

Lucy was a special-needs hen.

At the age of six months, she was stricken with Marek's disease. She survived, but her legs and her stamina were permanently affected. 

Lucy needed me, so she invited me into her life. 

For six and a half years Lucy and I shared a beautiful trusting friendship. She taught me what it's like to be a chicken.  And she taught me what it means to be alive. 

This October Lucy fell ill. I recognized her symptoms at once, and made a confident decision on her behalf.  I called Rosario, the wonderful vet who I wrote about in my book, and she met Sarah and me in our backyard the next day. Together we gave Lucy a comfortable ending while I held this beautiful hen my arms. 

It has been an honor to share Lucy with the world. I continue to be amazed at the way she touches people's lives in my book, Once Upon a Flock, in my blog stories, and on Facebook. 

Lucy's flock mourned her passing.  And now her flock guides me in moving forward.  Because the sun is shining, and it's a beautiful day. 

If you, too, aspire to attain the wisdom of a chicken, here are a few pointers:

Thank you for following my stories, and stay tuned for more tales of a soulful flock!

Flock of Four

"Don't cry because it's over. 

Smile because it happened."

-- Dr. Seuss

I buried Fern yesterday.

She died on Christmas. 
Probably not a significant day, to a chicken.
It just happened to be the right day for Fern to let go. 

Fern had courageously and hysterically battled illness since June. 
I helped her, perhaps more than I should have. 

But she just kept singing and being silly and, well, being Fern.
She wasn't ready to give up, so I didn't give up either.

I kept her going, hoping she would acquire more strength to fight.

After all, Lucy recovered. 

And she thrived. 

Lucy struggles still, but I make sure she is comfortable and happy, and I know that she is.

Fern helped me to understand that sometimes valiant efforts should not be taken to keep a beloved pet alive. 

For the past month, I have watched her condition deteriorate, ever so slowly. 

I knew she wouldn't make it through the winter.   

On Christmas morning Fern was sleepy, and she didn't sing to me when I lifted her from the nest box. When I offered her food and drink, she showed no interest.  

That afternoon when I visited the ladies,they were all hanging out with Fern.  

It felt to me like a vigil. 
It was not a sad moment. 
Just a quiet flock-moment.
Fern died a few hours later.  

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

She was a gorgeous bird.

She spent nearly three years as a chicken,
but she never did grow up.

Fern was a chickadee-chaser.


She challenged authority.

Fern tirelessly annoyed the whole flock, 

and she was number one on Lil'White's hit list.

Memories of Fern will always bring a chuckle, and I will smile because she "happened."

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

So another chapter has ended, and I am left with a flock of four. 

Now I look toward Spring.

Normally, I lustily peruse my flower and seed catalogs all through the winter. 

But this winter I'll be thumbing through chicken catalogs.

I'd like to increase my flock to seven or eight.

Maybe I'll get a Spitzhauben, a Wyandotte .... Definitely another Barred Rock....

Isn't it wonderful how life just keeps rolling along?  
I can't wait to meet my new characters!