Stormy

Photo copyright Wings, 2015; all rights reserved.

We buried Storm today.

I was supposed to be writing about the #MMIW movement today. I can't. I know people will think it's crazy to mourn a chicken, but I am. Maybe it's just too much cumulative loss lately.

The photo above was taken not quite three years ago, inside the coop. That's Storm with her twin Dominique, Smoke (who we lost over a year ago). Of the original group of chickens from 2012, only two remain now (one of which is Silver, the black and white Silver-Laced Wyandotte in the photo just below.

Photo copyright Wings, 2015; all rights reserved.

They were all young here, of course — only about three months old. Storm was always the brave one, more relaxed than the others, more outgoing, more bonded to us individually. It was she who we used to introduce the puppies to the chickens, and the result was something straight out of Warner Brothers: I held her in the palm of my hand, and she just settled in; then Wings brought She-Wolf and Raven up to see and sniff. She-Wolf, ever the maternal caretaker type, gave her one huge lick up the side of her neck and head. Raven, who was standing right next to her, then took his turn . . . and promptly closed his jaws over Stormy's entire head, á la the Mr. Hyde version of Tweety. With my free hand, I pried his mouth open, and Stormy was still sitting there, eyes open, with perfect equanimity.

She was my feathered buddy, the class clown, the happy girl. One morning in the coop, I bent over to change their water and spread their feed in the trough, heard a rustle of feathers, and then felt pointy little talons resting on my back.

Photo copyright Wings, 2015; all rights reserved.

This was her thing: Jump on my back, or better yet, on top of my head; if neither was accessible, an arm or a knee would do in a pinch. I was her human roost. One day when Wings, on a dare, took on the role of not-so-sacred clown in order to mock Johnny Depp's Dead-Crow Tonto, it was Stormy he held on his head while he danced for the camera, shirtless and in face paint. I don't think he'll let me post that one here.

Storm survived the loss of her twin fairly well. But when we lost Cherry last year, something changed, probably because Cherry had been, in some ways, the alpha. In all cases, it seems to have ended with the same problem: withdrawal, listlessness, eventual lethargy, and finally, their little bodies simply . . . stopped. It's clearly nothing contagious, because the others are perfectly healthy. The pattern, especially after the problems we encountered in infancy with some of their peers, have led us to conclude that it's some sort of genetic insufficiency. They came from a source who, we suspect, got them from new and inexperienced breeders who were probably trying to do the "all-organic" thing without really knowing what they were doing. Our more recent bunch of chickens came from different, established sources, and they're all hardy as hell (and laying with what can only be called profligacy, considering their otherwise-obvious state of molt).

I love them all. They're like feathered, taloned puppies: They come when I call (and even when I don't), running like a bunch of little old Victorian ladies with hiked petticoats and layered skirts, hoping against hope that whatever's in my hand (even if it's nothing) might be food of some sort. 

Storm's withdrawal turned to lethargy the last few days, and based on the possibility that she might have developed some sort of infectious condition, we'd been medicating her, me holding her, Wings administering the meds with an eyedropper. We did it for what would turn out to be one final time this morning, and she went back to sleep in my arms as I carried her back to the coop. I checked on her a couple more times, stroking her feathers and talking to her. An hour or so later, Wings came and got me; he'd gone to check on her, and found that she had just simply gone to sleep one last time.

She apparently left us one final gift of an egg.

Now, she's resting, with a little cedar and red willow, next to Carter's tree.

I loved this little girl. I am so very, very tired of loss.



All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.