The Honesty of Animals

Yolandi and Maria

In the golden sunlight of September I sit, doing one of the things I most enjoy in life...watching animals. Whether it be farm animals, pets, or wildlife, whether they be furred, feathered, amphibious or reptilian, I find them fascinating. They surely teach me how to “see” and to have deep patience. Back in the day, had I not been so afeared of science, and pursued it, I think I would have been a damn good field biologist.

Most evenings you’ll find me watching my flock of chickens ages 3 mos to 5 yrs. Even then, there’s the interplay of cats and dogs, herds of deer in the pasture. No matter who I’m watching, it is about their relationship with others, with the environment, and their sense of self. Yes, their sense of self. That’s pretty much the way it is in the human world too, except for the ego part. That instinctual wisdom really is light years beyond ego, (in my humble opinion). Animals bring me peace. The human world not nearly so much. With the animals in my care it is about my relationship with them, but now that I think about it, it’s also about the deer who know me, my routine of chores, and our relationship, the birds that know I fill the feeders, talk to them, and who trust me after all these years.

Mazzy playing on a walk w/ me and the dogs

One thing I love so much about animals is their complete lack of self consciousness. They honestly represent themselves, with no care about anything but direct encounter, sustaining themselves, and finding a place of comfort in their flock, herd, pack. Sometimes it may seem brutal or unfair, but the order of things comes first. Once the order is found, peace exists. I shy away from anthropomorphizing animal behavior, but sometimes what I see, over time, and occasionally in an instant, is out of what we two leggeds consider “the norm”, creating new awareness about creatures and what is even possibile. Animals are surprising, too.

There is so much learned on any given day about need, tolerance, intelligence, resourcefulness, and honesty from a simple flock of chickens, trio of barn cats, herd of horses or deer, gang of turkeys, family dog pack, murder of crows. My life is blessed by observations and interactions. Like many indigenous peoples, that looked to animals for lessons and stories, I too, find truth in animals.

Back deck w/ my friends

Chickens as Teachers

Gathering by the fire pit

I do not imagine most folks would consider a chicken to be a spirit animal. I know they are not in my medicine card deck. They are certainly not fierce and powerful, like the wolf, bear, or lion, fun loving like the otter, or swift like the deer. We honor the stealth of the fox, the mystery of the owl, the work ethic of the beaver. Much has been written about our connection to other mammalian domesticated animals. Riders experience the freedom given by the beautiful horse. There is the fine example of loyalty, so true of the dog, the independence of the cat. But what about chickens? People that keep them adore them. Having done so myself for the last ten years, I feel I have lived with them enough to see their unique qualities, from which humans can learn. Native Americans observed the animals with whom they came in contact, and revered them as teachers. In an older blog piece I wrote about wild birds and my observation, love, and admiration for the winged ones. But my hens and roosters, though feathered, have a different energy altogether.

Beneath the backyard bird feeders

In our language chickens are much maligned birds. It is an insult to be called “chicken”, after all, or to have “chicken legs”. Yet, I wish I had the natural abilities of my flock. Their sensory awareness puts ours to shame. They are a prey animal, so they are tuned to shifts in any sounds, sights, or movement. The rooster alerts the hens, if a shadow passes overhead and all head for the bush. They watch out for one another, and form bonded relationships within the flock. There are extroverted hens and introverted ones, social gals and outliers, but they all find their way back into the henhouse to roost together at chicken dark. They like to go on small group adventures and have their special hangouts, sometimes to soak up the sun with their solar panel wings, and sometimes to stay out of the weather or heat. The other day I saw little Delores jump on the BIG teenage rooster, George, when he waylaid her best friend (my other older hen), and chased him off. I had NEVER seen a hen teach a roo such a lesson. It felt like she was saying “Respect your elders, surprise attack breeding doesn’t fly here.”

Arrival of new pullets at the chicken house

Chickens are easy, require little space or work to thrive, especially if they can free range and forage. Yet they give a gift, regularly…the perfect protein of an egg. And a farm egg, well, there is nothing like it in any store. They eat garden pests and appreciate kitchen scraps. They spread the manure in your pasture fields, naturally. I find their feather patterns beautiful, and just enjoy watching them move around the farm throughout the day. Perhaps because I invest time developing a relationship with them, they often follow me around. Gardening might give them rewards of a grub or worm, but many mornings, they just come sit with me and preen while I have my porch swing coffee, or evenings, my back deck beer or glass of wine. They will lay quietly at my feet, or perch on the back of a bench. The current tame Orpington rooster, Buddy Roe, might even come sit in my lap, looking for a treat. My small egg business is called “Peace Love Chickens”, and I have the same primitive sign I painted over the hen house door years ago. It may not be very original, but says in a few words all that I feel about being a chicken keeper.

Over the years I have had several favorites in the flock. Adelaide was one such bird. She taught me about love and trust. A special needs pullet, having come to me missing a few toes and sadly, a malformed beak, so it was hard for her to eat. We trimmed it regularly, and gave her special attention. As she grew up, she found ways to compensate for her physical challenges. Very comfortable with the family pets, Adelaide could be found hanging out somewhere with the dogs or cats, but always ran to us when we came around the corner. I remember being amazed and surprised by her first egg, a beautiful olive green. She was my first ever green egg layer. Adelaide liked water, and sometimes stepped into the puppy pool to cool off, and was such a sweet kind spirit wherever she went. Now there is Spot, one of the four Buckeye hens, always underfoot, and very talkative. The breed is so smart, and brave, yes brave, and will take on a wood rat or a snake, and devour it. They are omnivores, after all and you can see the reptile in them, from their scaly legs to their “giving nothing away” eye. If chickens were five feet tall, they would be high up on the predator list.

Adelaide cooling her feet

Eleanor

But I digress. My enthusiasm for chickens in general, and my affection for those that have been here on Red Horse Flats over the last decade is not the real purpose of this writing. I am not a chicken whisperer. I am a chicken observer, and witness to their “ways”. Remember all those graphics on tee shirts, cards, and totes, with “Advice from…”  just about everything . I loved them. Someone understood, what a butterfly, a river, a tree, an eagle can teach us. Maybe there is one for chicken folks, too, though I have not seen it. So I am here to share in a few words what might be of universal value from my own noticings. So here goes:

What Chickens Teach Us

Start the day early, no matter the weather.

Come together with your flock/family every evening, regardless of what may have happened during the day.

Be in tune with all your senses.

Pay attention to the small things all around you, as there are treasures to be found, sometimes in unlikely places.

Take care of the young. A loving Mother sustains the world.

Beauty comes in all colors, sizes, and types. At the end of the day we are all the same.

We all have a gift to offer that comes from us, and is unique to us.

Let others know when you have created something special.

Inform those around you where the good stuff can be found.

Notice changes around and adapt as needed.

There is a time for confrontation, and making noise, and there is a time to be quiet and still.

Maybe chickens are not everyone’s cup of tea. A floggy rooster IS problematic. But my Queendom is all that more peaceable because of the feathered friends with whom I share it. There is great reciprocity with farm animals, no more so than with chickens. I take care of them, and they feed me.  Providing me laughter and meaningful interspecies interaction with their funny individual personalities is just one more thing to appreciate. My belief is chickens are teachers, no less than any other animal. They are due respect and kindness. I would proudly wear a tee shirt that says “Chickens Are My Spirit Animal.” 

Conversation w/ the flock

Winter time

Creatures and Critters 1) Birds

Heron on the pond in February

It started when I was little. Like most of humanity, I was inspired by the effortless flight of birds, their habits, and beauty. I marveled at stories of their migration. How did they know when to leave, when to return? How could they travel all that distance, as small as they were? My fascination and respect grew the more I learned.

Mama fed the songbirds, keeping binoculars by the large den windows. She taught me the names of those she knew, and an identification book was nearby on the bookshelf. Though better now, even then I could match some nest constructions and songs to particular birds. Much of my childhood was lived in a large tree filled backyard, bounded on all sides by mixed pine forest. A rope hammock hung beneath the biggest oak tree, becoming a perfect space on a summer day for observing birdlife up above. Many twilights were spent listening to the whip-poor-wills call. Whistling the bobwhite quail refrain brought them from the woods up close to me, though I felt guilty for fooling them. Seduced into deeper woods, pasturelands, as I grew older, I walked with my dogs or rode my horse to cover ground all around and through the rural community. There were blackberry thickets, pond banks and creeksides to visit that brought different flyers and waders in. Secret, special places called me to come, sit, observe, and listen to life there. I felt “free as a bird” out living under the sky. That has always been a great attraction for me.

Through time, humans have assigned many qualities to the winged ones — the bluebird of happiness, the white dove of peace, wise as an owl, to name just a few common phrases. Hummingbirds in the Aztec culture were believed to be the messengers between the living and their ancestors, and their gods. They also have been our native peoples symbol for good fortune, joy, and love. In Incan culture both the condor from the south and eagle of the north fly together in the same blue sky, integral in their spiritual cosmovision. Our native peoples also revere the eagle, of course, and did long before our young nation took it as as their symbol. The eagle’s image is found on the United States seal, our money, and other places as a vital symbol of strength and freedom. In the celtic and norse spiritual traditions, the eagle, is seen as the visionary. Other birds are also powerful totems. The god Odin was always accompanied by two ravens, Hugin and Mugin. Each offered him their unique guidance. There are many bird references in the Bible. Horus is a falcon headed god of ancient Egypt. These are but a few examples, showing all cultures hold birds in high esteem for their flight, qualities, and specialized skills. We have absorbed these ideas unconciously, had our own observations and interactions. We are drawn to birds.

Hawk feather

Birds are teachers. Who doesn’t feel that catch inside while watching the perfection of a hawk spiralling above, or stopped to listen with a rush of feeling their “kee  kee-ing” across the sky? They amaze and teach the big view. I am blessed to listen to the barred owls communicate “who- cooks- for- you” across the woods on so many evenings and to hear the crows chortle during mating and nesting each spring. On the farm there have always the crow brothers walking around the horse pastures. There were four, now in recent years, three. I know it is the same birds. I talk. They talk. We have conversations.They know my habits, are keenly observant, and they are unafraid of me. They teach me to pay attention and use my voice. When gathered in a large group (a murder) in the treetops, crows teach the importance of hashing out disagreements. I call it a murder meeting.These days, when I change the suet cake, the downy and red bellied woodpeckers, nuthatches and flickers just hop over to a branch, wait for me to refill the cage, then come right back to feed when I am still present. It is meaningful not to be perceived as a threat, but a provider. They teach patience and trust. The barn swallows raise their young in the rafters each year, building a new nest just out of reach of the cats. Here they raise two or three clutches. The fledged adolescents stay around and assist their parents in feeding and raising the others. The second hatch continues the tradition if a third comes along. They teach commitment to life and each other. The many doves that nest in the huge firs along the driveway teach the value of community. The mockingbird waits all winter alone for his mate to come back from down south. He teaches the importance of holding space for family when they are away, and then to sing 100 songs about it every morning after their return. The great blue heron stands unmoving near the cattails, sun sparkling on the water. She teaches the value of stillness. The gangs of turkey up on the mountain teach us to look closely at the world, and be adaptable.The ducks flying overhead between ponds each morning and evening, teach me to honor the transitions of each day. I think of the wren that nests in the box on the fence post, the shy bluebirds, the singular towhee that appears occasionally, the flash of indigo as buntings fly up from the roadside brambles. They all part of life. They are our relations with wings.

To have rescued a few hummers from their accidental entry into the house, to feel their tiny heartbeat so fast, then watch them fly away from my open hand, following their confusing struggle, brings me fully into the presence of bird energy. I close my eyes and can recall the moment, feeling it all over again. The summer I worked as a back country ranger in Wyoming, ruby throats would come often to my campsite, hover around my head and face, then disappear, as if greeting and welcoming me to their world in the wilderness.

female ruby-throated hummingbird

Last week, sitting right here, several doves flew up suddenly from the ground, and one hit the bedroom window and fell into the tangle of flowerbed beneath. Immediately I remembered the times I carefully took the stunned birds that found my parent’s windows, placed them in a shoebox of grass, and tried to nurse them back to life and flight. Seldom was I successful. But I tried. Those that recovered from their trauma to fly again brought such happiness to my young heart.This dove died, but I held her, acknowledged her life, admired her tan and grey iridescent feathers, her tiny feet, and broad breast. I stroked her warm body and said words, just as I did as a child. 

downy woodpecker

This spring, different birds showed up for a few weeks in a flash of excitement before departing. Among the goldfinches, cardinals, chickadees, bluejays and the other usuals came orioles, grosbeaks, to the feeders and scarlet tanagers in the woods. I noticed their interactions w/the home birds, their unique energy, and felt thrill and wonder. New relations, new teachers. I save feathers and fallen nests. Sometimes I find nests designed with the mane and tail hair of our horses. Of course I love them best. When I brush the horses, those long strands are put outside the barn for foraging birds. They use it to wrap and cushion their eggs in that circle of life creation called a nest. The found nest and feather offerings become part of my home decor, gifts to others, and are present in my spiritual practice and work. It is a way of honoring the blessings of the birds.

With the sunrise, meditating on the element air, the feel and action of wind, and the wisdom shared by the eastern direction, I find birds appear, sometimes alone, sometimes in a flock. Always, the two that I “know” to be my totem bird allies are nearby to offer guidance —- the nocturnal owl and the rowdy kingfisher. I feel “chosen” by them. Experiences brought this awareness. My eldest son likely remembers camping as a child, and following an owl for quite a ways, flying and showing us the path through the woods. Such things happen consistently. I feel something dormant activated within when I hear or see the kingfisher patrolling, These two are such feathered opposites in every way. That may well be part of their teaching, and my learning. Once I read an article describing a study that discovered although birds have calls to alert others to danger, to communicate to chicks or a potential mate, or other purposes, their song, be it a warble or a trill, is an expression of joy. That is a lesson of tremendous value. I ask myself, “What is my joy?”and “How do I express happiness out in the world?”. Birds are angels here on earth, come to restore our spirits, reminding us when we forget that we two leggeds can also feel free, soar, and sing. I am grateful for the teachings. I carry that joy inside. I love birds.

small ceremonial fan

a few found nests