An Ode to Sally (the last in a chicken tale)

So as I sit with cat on knees

I tap my fingers on the keys

I think of Sally black and sleek

And wonder now what world she sees

Recently, on a wild, stormy and wintry day I rehomed Sally, the last girl standing from our 8 year chicken farming experience. We started the journey with three White Sussexes, large and heavy birds that were chosen specifically so they couldn’t lift off and fly their coop. Sadly and tragically within the first few weeks a local cat took advantage of their flightless state and stole away with one, Dilly, leaving behind her remaining sisters Dolly and Dally. 

Because apparently in the world of chooks three is better than two, I went back to our local chicken farmer and got a replacement, Sally, a Black Leg-horn breed known for their strength and prolific egg laying ability. I didn’t realise that she however was much lighter, and soon she began to take flight whenever her inclination took her. She is the black feathered sleek one mentioned above, who after witnessing the death of her sister Dolly via some unknown and unexplained event, followed by Dally, who succumbed to a regular chicken type illness, has been residing alone until now when I made the difficult decision to take her back to the farm that she came from.

As I dropped her back at her place of birth the chicken farmer whisked her away, carrying both her and an umbrella in her arms, battling the wind and rain, and the mud.

There was no ceremony and hardly a moment to say Goodbye. :(  

I offered to go with her. She said No. 

I offered to provide Sally with grain for the rest of her life. She laughed. 

I wondered where the ‘pen’ was that she was taking Sally to, and how many chickens might be living there. I didn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss. 

I thought about Sally as she joined the flock. She has been used to her own company, sleeping high up in a tree in all seasons, free ranging ours and the neighbours property for bugs, and generally taking care of herself apart from a cup of grain that I have dutifully fed her over the years. There was no bread, no human food, nothing unhealthy, only the best chicken nibbles money could buy, which is probably the reason why she is such a strong girl, outlived her sisters and will hopefully continue for a few more years to come, (unless she gets pecked to death by some bully-chicken who won’t share her space). It doesn’t pay to think about it.

As she ran off with Sally in her arms the chicken lady shouted back, ‘She will be fine!’ and I was left fending off her barking and snapping fox terrier while trying to leave the remains of Sally’s grain and a basket of treats to show my gratitude.

Why did I rehome Sally in the twilight of her life you may ask?  

It’s a fair question with a layered answer.

Enter above said cat, who although not technically ours is one we have inherited to care for, ‘temporarily.’ It’s a bit like grandparents who naively think that their child rearing days are over when there is a knock on the door and the mokopuna take over. In our case, it’s a cat and her name is Pepper, Pep, Pup, or more aptly Princess which from where I sit as I write, she wears the title well.

To be fair she wasn’t the problem, rather the catalyst for me to make a decision that I’ve been thinking about for a while. You see Sally, when she was left to be an only chicken, decided that she didn’t want to sleep, or roost in her coop anymore. She was either cold, lonely or scared. So she moved to higher ground, namely, initially, our lemon tree where she would jump up onto to the lowest branch and then proceed to climb as high as she could to a branch thick enough to support her weight. And there she would balance for the night as she slept. I like to think it’s because other birds slept alongside her which may be part of her reason but it turns out also that this is a regular free range and wild chicken practice, albeit normally they roost together as a flock, keeping each other company, warm and safe. 

Poor lonely, cold and undefended Sally.

An interesting fact is that chickens, when they roost, enter a deep sleep state and knowing intuitively that they are prey and vulnerable, they choose to sleep on perches in their coop in order to be able to make a quick getaway if necessary, or as in Sally’s case high up in trees and in this way her ability to fly was an asset. This deep sleep that they enter not only leaves them vulnerable, but it’s also the best time to catch a chicken if for some reason you need to, which for me was going to be to get her into a cage and ready for her new home. Unfortunately I was never going to be able to climb the neighbors tree in the dark and pull her free from the branches, but it was this sleepy state of mind that eventually enabled her to be caught, caged and delivered. 

For some reason she had progressed up into the neighbours feijoa tree which was higher and stronger than our lemon tree, leaving me to wonder if she was in fact in some kind of predatory danger. Seeing as she did this long before Pep came, I can’t attribute blame in that direction. Because she was a light-weight bird who had never had her wings clipped, she was able to easily jump over our boundary fence and make her way up into this tree which seemed to work well for quite a while; Sally roosting in the neighbours tree then coming home for food and foraging. This was her preference and who knows the mind of a chicken. But that was until the Princess arrived 6 months ago and decided, on the first day here, that she was the one and only ruler of this quarter acre kingdom (and the house we live in which is aptly referred to as ‘Pep’s Palace’), and Sally was banished.

The neighbours were gracious, until they started doing some renovations and were wanting to do some concreting, and until Sally had made herself at home in their wood pile and under their house, using it as a shelter and a toilet, and until, well, until they weren't. A conversation was had about the issue at hand, and the suggestion was made to clip her wings so that she couldn’t fly over the fence any more. But to clip her wings would also mean that she couldn’t roost back up in our lemon tree, and to clip her wings in my mind somehow took away her bird-status, leaving her vulnerable and too restricted for one who had figured out how to not only live alone but survive the ordeal.

No. Clipping her wings was not an option. Rehoming her became the plan, and in a conversation with my chicken farmer friend about it, she offered to have her back. 

Long story short, Sally for some reason although I guess it was because she intuitively knew something was up due to the fact that for two days I had been chasing her around the back yard trying every which way to force her into a big blue metal cage, had decided to move her nighttime abode and to tuck herself safely in the neighbours wood pile, where she was spotted. So clever!

 But from this vantage point she was easy to catch, and being gentle and with minimal trauma (I hope) at the end of the second day she was lifted into the cage that would be used to deliver her to her new home.. Even though she resisted the chase, this wily, cunning and quick bird that she is, there was no resistance or fight when she was tucked up in her wood shed bed unknowingly on that stormy night. I imagine her now roosting on a perch in a large chicken coop, enjoying the warmth, safety and comfort of her friends in her new hen house. That’s how I want to think of about her anyway.

Which brings me to this present moment, where as I write, Pep is asleep on my knee, trying to keep warm as the rain pounds the windows and the wind smashes through the trees. I had just made a coffee and cut myself a slice of cake to comfort myself in the time of my loss and as I write this Ode to Sally, but Pep jumped up onto my knee and I couldn’t reach for my snack. You may ask why I didn’t just push her off my knee, but for those of you that are cat people, the feeling that comes when a cat chooses your knee is accompanied by a moment in time when you feel like the Universe is giving you a hug, so she stayed and my coffee went cold. Chickens, it turns out, are much less demanding than cats, but they don’t keep you warm at night :)

I am very fond of Sally and will miss her quaint and funny chicken antics; the company she kept me in the garden, the eggs she laid frequently, the way she would crouch down and let me pick her up when she was broody and he cute display of sunbathing on a hot summers day. But I won’t miss her destroying newly planted seedlings and plants, the need for fencing off said plants just to get them established or her manure that even though is wonderful for the garden, her frequent deposits left ever so freely on our deck, is not. 

But I am glad for the experience! And I wish her well.

 I’ve learned a lot from this little flock over the years, much about chickens and some things about myself. Nature has that ability and offers an invitation to broaden your perspective and change your point of view. Nature is a true friend

So Thankyou Dilly, Dolly, Dally and Sally! Haere rā!`

I want to finish by sharing a very old Celtic Poem called Pangur Ban / The Scholar and his cat. I am no scholar (or poet)  but I do love to write. It helps me process life; it’s joys and sorrows, dreams and realities, darkness and light. Sometimes when I’m working, like today, the Pup jumps up on my knee. It’s like she knows, well, everything. I call her my Zen Cat. With Sally having moved out, and Pep having moved in, she will now be one to help provide some inspiration for my words.

So Welcome Pep! Haere mai! 

Pangur Bán (Translated from the Old Irish by Robin Flower)

I and Pangur Bán my cat,

'Tis a like task we are at: 

Hunting mice is his delight,

Hunting words I sit all night. 

Better far than praise of men 

'Tis to sit with book and pen;

Pangur bears me no ill-will,

He too plies his simple skill.

'Tis a merry task to see

At our tasks how glad are we,

When at home we sit and find

Entertainment to our mind

Oftentimes a mouse will stray

In the hero Pangur's way;

Oftentimes my keen thought set 

Takes a meaning in its net.

'Gainst the wall he sets his eye

Full and fierce and sharp and sly;

'Gainst the wall of knowledge I

All my little wisdom try.

When a mouse darts from its den,

O how glad is Pangur then!

O what gladness do I prove

When I solve the doubts I love

So in peace our task we ply, 

Pangur Ban, my cat, and I;

In our arts we find our bliss,

I have mine and he has his

Practice every day has made

Pangur perfect in his trade;

I get wisdom day and night

Turning darkness into light

                     ~

Postscript

Here’s an update on Sally after I inquired, and in the words of the chicken farmer,

‘She’s doing fine, at home with the other girls..’ 

My mind is at rest.