In mid-April of 2023, I wrote on my blog about my granddaughters and their newly acquired chickens. You can read the entire piece “Spring Chicken” here: https://bit.ly/3AtQ90B. I was apprehensive and perhaps overprotective about my granddaughter, Josephine, and her younger sisters. Would avian mortality break young human hearts? I wrote: “I began to catalog problems. Where on the family property sloping down to the Beaverkill River could they locate a henhouse? Would a moveable henhouse be a good idea? What would Archie’s (the family dog) role in all this be? Guard dog or predator? There is no lack of natural predators in the neighborhood: coyotes, foxes, bobcats, weasels, mink, raccoons, opossums, skunks, rodents, and snakes. Not to mention aerial attacks from hawks, owls, and the bald eagles that patrol up and down the river”.
My brother, Harrison, with his own flock of chickens, shared some useful wisdom, reminding me “…of potential lessons that could be learned in this venture. Some good, some perhaps painful. Raising chickens, like the vegetable gardens we have in common comes with a mix of success, frustration, and failure. He suggested to me that the potential for learning was far more important than trying to protect Josephine from emotional upset. The value of experience over being sheltered”.
The chicken venture moved forward. A creative housing solution was found. Ten chicks grew, matured, and in due course began laying eggs in abundance. They thrived throughout the seasons and in their second summer could be found clucking behind the rhododendrons in front of the house, parading in the driveway, or roaming further afield while always returning for nighttime roll call. All was well until a midsummer nighttime count yielded eight instead of ten. There was no sign of a chicken massacre, neither corpses nor even feathers in the vicinity of the house, but clearly, two were gone.
A more recent mortality showed clear indications of a culprit. One poor bird had its head bitten off, typical of the murderous ways of a mink or a fisher. Not long after the killer returned to feed on the corpse. Video evidence showed the perpetrator hanging upside down from a fence while gnawing on the body of his victim. The likely guess, given the river nearby and habitat preference, is that a mink was the culprit. If you like, you can view the video here:
https://drive.google.com/file/
It was time to get the remaining flock (while it remained a flock) to safety. Josephine has a classmate, Mia, whose family lives nearby and has a fenced-in chicken run that could easily accommodate immigrant newcomers. Mia’s father arrived one evening, gathered the birds, and transported them to safety.
This past weekend Josephine had a sleepover at Mia’s house. As it happened, I was helping to care for my granddaughter flock over the weekend. I drove Josephine – 10, and her sisters (Willa – 6, and Julia – 5) to the drop-off at Mia’s. The girls got a chance to visit their chickens. The pickup the next day provided another opportunity to visit. Mia’s father assured me that the newcomers had settled in nicely and after a day off had begun laying eggs again. Indeed, they had a dozen eggs for us to take home, along with two kinds of winter squash from their garden. Their easy generosity toward birds and humans alike is much appreciated. The girls are welcome to visit their chickens again.
Sunday evening provided a grim reminder that more than chickens are vulnerable to predators. Mia Rodriguez and her family are Mexicans. They own their home. They pay taxes. They are good neighbors. They are not the only good neighbors to be found in the Catskills to be sure. But Sunday’s Trump rally reminded me of disparaging remarks I’ve heard about Mexicans in the years we’ve had a home in the Catskills. A prejudice Trump plays to. Worse, of course, is the fact that there are those who would happily remove a family such as this simply due to their ethnicity
Sunday reminded me that there are good people who are vulnerable to the racist whims of Donald Trump. I have kept my political inclinations largely to myself and those I know to be of a similar persuasion. That is a luxury I can no longer award myself in this election. My silence and a vote are not enough. I can no longer fear who will disagree with my opinion and my stance. I can’t pretend to be a chicken naively hoping to live safely when I’m all too aware of the danger that might attack my freedom and that of my neighbors.
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