Copper Chronicles

Now that we know how modern hens have been treated by scientists, I wonder about scientists’ motivations. Discovery is good. Learning and sharing, yes. Proving the non-existence of God, well, that originates in scientists’ motivation to operate without any moral compass. Science cannot be its own moral compass. That is why we have pink snowballs the FDA calls “food.”

Addictive foods like Oreos, Cheez-its, I know, my mouth is watering just thinking about them. I am like Pavlov’s dog who salivates on cue when exposed to their bright packaging and promised deliciousness. Scientists’ lives are committed to formulating our food in labs! Yum lab food!

Carl Jung said about scientists- roughly speaking- that we know there is more to life than what we can measure with tools because people have consciences. That annoying sometimes officious little rooster-like voice that says: “Don’t do that!” Or “Something is wrong here!”

That ominous warning I received about hay one day. Remember? How does a conscience ‘know’ things? How does a conscience know about hay? Who is in there?

Viktor Frankl would be proud. I am laughing at myself. Feels good. If you can laugh about there being a voice inside our beings that tells us things we don’t know- but should- you are in good company!

At least I can be sure my conscience has a track record of helping avoid being stupid. And seems to laugh with me, when I laugh at myself!

Lady is yet to learn how awful human beings can be. She’s only been alive a year now, and not familiar with history. That is why first and foremost I need to identify a perennial human enemy- FEAR.

Viktor Frankl (video posted in Searching for Copper) suggests imagining the worst-case scenario before you ____________________(fill in your intended plan here). If I fear giving a speech, he posits: It’s not likely people who came to hear you speak are armed and going to shoot if you do a poor job. Right? It’s kind of funny, but it is true. Laughing at fear helps me see -perhaps- I am being ridiculous.

My husband asked me to today when I updated him on Lady’s progress: “Isn’t Copper…dead?”

“Yes,” I said, sadly. But Lady doesn’t know that. She’s just a hen. Copper left alive in a box. Who knows where hens go when they’re taken away in box?”

Four hens showed up at my house in a box. The box perhaps lends some mystery to the hen experience. A door, an exit, or passageway to a new place or experience. What world is beyond “the box”? a hen may ask.

Lady, I suspect is already working on these existential questions. Since, well, her time for exiting this world in a box may be coming up. Three hens have already gone through that passage. She knows this is not a safe world: Poor quality food, minimal to no healthcare, hawks, rats to name a few predators.

Either a hen is an engineered creature scientists breed to be plump, egg-laying, and flightless birds; in which case she cannot survive in this world. Or there is something completely wrong with the world- as it is. Or it could be both things happening simultaneously.

If that is the case, we should all be wondering what happens when we get put into that box. We may as well face the BIGGEST FEAR there is, the FEAR of dying.

Once we are free of that fear, all fears will pale by comparison. Hens just don’t emerge out of nowhere then vanish back to nowhere when they die. I am sorry, but the scientists of the twentieth century can’t claim that as a “scientific truth.” That sounds more like an excuse to justify any kind of bizarre experiment they so choose.

“Of course, we can fundamentally change hens into whatever serves our interests! Who says we can’t??”

Lady is looking for her friend, Copper. At least, I think that is why she escaped from her new pen with new friends where I re-homed her after Buffy’s death. Someone said once: “It is not good for man to be alone.” I think that must apply to hens, too. Everybody needs somebody.

Lady may have read my last post where my husband and I were mocking people whose social engineering was wearing off. Laughing is sometimes a coping mechanism for more serious concerns behind ‘social engineering.’ That is, combining twentieth century public education (Dewey planned) with AI technology, to create better human beings.

Let’s be honest about public education in the twentieth century. The world as we see it now is the result. Add AI to it, and well, that’s why Viktor Frankl says to laugh. At least the YouTube video in my cue claims that is one of his coping mechanisms. Add that book to my long list of things worth knowing.

When I grew up laughing meant you weren’t working hard enough. Or you were up to mischief. Old School values were necessary in the Great Depression when my parents grew up, when all your focus should be on surviving. I get it. They may yet be needed again. But I have learned from experience that if I don’t laugh and thereby relieve the pressure in my head- it may explode. Head explosions are a real thing. See my story on Nextdoor called “Exploding Heads.”

Lady, the hen, is looking for Copper. That happy time in life where we all friends enjoyed days of plenty and peace. Days very much like Early America before the wars came and world empires struggled to dominate, I imagine.

There were days when men, women, Indians, migrants, lived in peace. I think. But I am not too optimistic it lasted long without the ongoing power struggle that characterizes much of human history. Why are human beings always destroying things? Seems like the ones with the most power do the most destroying, too. No one remembers those people, either.

This is when I ask a question to continue the quest. What does Viktor Frankl say about power and human beings? And laughing?

Back soon…

Here’s a video that discusses human beings and fear. And power over fear and laughter. So, you may join me on my quest if you like.

I consider YouTube about one step below Wikipedia when it comes to credibility. However, the secret to internet searching is to get primary sources quoted in questionable ones. There was a man named Viktor Frankl, he did write a book called “Mans’ Search for Meaning.” Of that I can be certain.

Two plus two equals four!

This has been a harrowing 8 months. If I hadn’t mentioned it, my two clever hens urged on by their love of adventure managed to hover with helicopter-like vertical motion up onto their hutch and out into my yard. Hens don’t normally hover. The space was so narrow- something unusual is afoot! Anyhow, nature does not distinguish between birds for which I have great affection and birds that are just well, birds, if there is such a thing. Hawk did what Hawk does and Buffy’s days ended on the earth rather unceremoniously.

Lady called and called and called out when I finally found her after the event. She and I shared similar outrage. This is no country for hens, I said to myself. Lady agreed I could see in her hen indignation.

Unlike my experience with Copper, I did not feel overwhelmed by feelings of uncertainty and self-doubt. At the Vet Hospital in Deerfield when Copper died, I noticed people shared a similar experience of shame and regret. Somehow their animals’ suffering was their own fault, or was it?? “I should have done this, or this, or that. I did this and that and should not have done that other thing…” Same as I experienced.

The confusion is disorientating because, as I learned with Copper, you can try to do all the right things and sh** beyond your wildest imagining may occur. Copper may have been dehydrated in the hot weather which I did not prepare for (this effects egg laying). Was her suffering my fault? How do I know? How do I escape the feelings of regret and sorrow for things that are genuinely my fault?  

Buffy died because she wanted to run around freely, and she managed to escape. How a fat hen hovers up a narrow passage onto the hutch and flies away is beyond my imagination. I feel badly but I am not having a existential crises now. But that doesn’t mean the existential questions about guilt and shame do not exist and need answering. There’s a high risk of becoming a sociopath, I noticed, if I cease to care about these things.

Sociopathy means lacking empathy among other things according to social scientists. Although I am certain psychology is lots of theorizing and wishful thinking muddled in with genuine understanding of what motivates human behavior and how to ‘fix’ it. The human being is not a biological machine that needs “tweaking” or “medication” to make them operate correctly. Or “social conditioning.” Are they?

My husband and I are currently imitating what happens when Elon Musk’s ‘brain chip’ device (also touted by Yuval Harari at Davos Meetings) mixes with twentieth century social engineering concepts. My husband is an engineer, he is good at acting like a robot. We look like “Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots.” One is saying: “Biden is doing a great job!!” The other is trying to say: “No, no… he’s not…Really. He really IS NOT!” (That robots conditioning is wearing off).

No, actually that is what is happening NOW in homes across America- BEFORE AI chip implants. After AI chip implants we won’t have to argue anymore or articulate positions on possible solutions to complex conundrums that human beings experience. We just obey our conditioning and hopefully the AI engineers only want what is best for us. Sort us like how right now people think Washington D.C. only wants what is best for us. Of course, people in power only want what is best for us.  

“Good thing no one is planning AI conditioning for hens. They will be the only independent thinkers left on the planet,” my husband warns.

He is right. As is, this is no country for hens or human beings!

Words rhyme and fun sounds ring in your ears like a cheery tune. I wanted to say: Hens and friends and friends of hens but that may be confusing. However, that is quite what I wanted to say. That one may be a friend of a hen, and hens may be friends and better friends than human beings sometimes.

        Alas! As I have no hens remaining in my pen, who would like to be object in my journal? The subject of careful study and observation? When you do a thing, would you care for me to comment, and publicize my approval or disapproval of such a thing that you do and speak? That may be a quick way to lose friends. I don’t think I even want to be the subject of such observation. But it seems in a world where we do not escape the consequences of our own behavior (whether good or bad), observation of oneself and behavior may be the antidote to chaos.

This is a seed of hope. Honesty is required. But how does one know what is honest or true unless it has an objective standard to measure itself against? Plato plays a role in the pursuit of truth- because he believed there existed a higher realm of experience worth knowing. Like Forrest, Forrest Gump says, “That is all I have to say about that.” Perhaps objective trial and error experimentation will do?

So, what lesson can we glean from hen experience? The world can be scary and awful, adversarial to hens’ well-being. The hens can’t be responsible for the “world” so to speak because they have no authority in it. They are conveniently low on the scale of things that matter. Too low in my opinion. Hens have their own “natures” – habits, personalities, strengths, and weaknesses.

No hen can be the “uber- hen” without the cooperation and respect of the other hens (since qualities and characteristics of hens that are beneficial are distributed throughout the hen population.) Neitsche was wrong. Being an “Uberman” or “Uberhen” isn’t the goal of life. Power!!

Isn’t the hen at the top that is always pecking the others a dis-likable creature? How did this generation forget the adage, or -ism, or proverb: “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely”?

Moses had it correct when he prophesied the strong should serve the weak (Ten Commandments). In this world the weak are made to serve the strong. That does not make sense. Copper served the well-being of her friends, and she was happy, and all was well.

See what I mean about hens and friends and friends of hens? Anyone who doesn’t love hens is NO friend of mine.

The hen hutch is vacant. All that is left are remnants revealing a happy and harrowing ordeal that is life. Life is happy and harrowing for hens and human beings.

Human “being” is a peculiar word. It suggests a pre-existent condition- one that IS. An eternal reality of a kind that I may play a part in. Like Plato says. I prefer that view of human beings to the one we are currently experiencing.

Seems scientists see humans as biological matter- creatures only- on which to practice their scientific theories. Maybe the white-robed masters should call us human “blips” instead. Blip suggests a person as faceless and lifeless as a Target mannequin. No eternal being, no “divine spark” as Lincoln says all men possessed. Nobody cares what happens to mannequins.

When I say human “Being” it suggests all the inherited rights we possess that are necessary for our well-being and happiness. The idea upon our past civilization was built.  Blips, however, have no real significance or value. There’s millions of ’em. Blips are just agents of matter, fighting their way through the mud and slime towards some pinnacle of egoism called Progress. The “Uberman” Nietzsche speaks of perhaps.

If Truval Noah Harari is the Uberman in the “War” on Global Poverty for example, hasn’t he taken away everyone’s rights by giving himself unlimited power? All human beings are consigned to eating grasshoppers in poverty (although “equal” in status) so Mr. Harari can self-actuate?? That is the worst expression of equality I have ever seen.

Can’t we at least find a better Uberman to guide us? Someone whose ideals may prove a bit more beneficial to human kind? Surely poor people have been eating grasshoppers for centuries. John the Baptist!

I am glad hens have no such delusions of grandeur, otherwise there would be constant war in the hen pen. All hens can’t be Uberman can they? They all can’t be equally right, equally valuable in their contributions, equally entitled to respect and applause?

It’s like human beings have chosen a worldview that logically dictates we be in a perpetual state of derision, arguing, and discontent. Competition for the “Uber”-ist Uberman. A plague of grasshoppers may just be the thing that saves us at this rate!

Consider this, as proof of my claim that progress as currently defined is the worst worldview to possess and the enemy of equality: Does any human being ever say: “I want to be a number on a government roll! My deepest desire is to be a faceless cog in a never-ending experiment modernists call progress! This is what I freely choose to be,” says no one ever. That’s not a dream, that’s a nightmare, Noah!

Did Nietzsche plan to enslave the world? Or is he acting out his own enslaved status unknowingly and encouraging others to do the same? Is this the Turkish Delight of human beings’ demise? How is it possible hens have propensity to avoid such preposterous hubris and humans do not?

One lady left. It may seem like a Greek tragedy and the Greeks knew their tragedies well. I think they wrote about life’s pains and trials and created their plays because human beings need to be inoculated by the whole truth of life to be effective citizens. Seems antithetical to our pleasure society to view tragedy as ‘entertainment’. But sobering.

Frank Sinatra sang “Luck is a Lady” but what an insult to my Lady, the hen. The “Rat” of American pop-culture sings the song of fools- guiding that ship of state right off the cliff. Lady is no rabbit foot, give it a rub for good fortune! Keep your hands to yourself, you singing sap.

Lady is alone, for now. Loyal Lady. She may appear as the victim in a horror show that is the world right now. She may be a testimony to its fantasies and failures- a tragic hero of sorts with no hope of happiness.

But that tragic interpretation of her story is only tragedy for people who do not know or love Truth. For Loyalty cannot exist in a vacuum. She stands for something, something worth all her devotion, affection, and long-suffering. There is something worthy of Loyal Lady’s earnest vigil!

The ship of state may be fueling folly. But Loyal Lady does not stand Alone!  

For the time being, my hens have a haven. It’s because I love them. Anyone who is loved has a haven. Seems like that should be the law. Good thing I am not the only one thinking that. Unkindness, cruelty and deceit; robbery, abuse, and neglect of all kinds would end. What a happy prospect. Love is the antidote to the “Me” generation and the ensuing selfishness, vanity, and narcissism parading on the world stage (Well, the world stage according to Hollywood).

        Hens have a haven because they are loved. So, my end game is to love. Love keeps hens happy, safe, and free. All those things are necessary. The experience is not without peril. But I think I prefer to live in a world where my gifts and skills, my words, and my questions matter. A world where we are free to pursue those questions. Hens don’t want to be Hothouse Hens as much as I don’t want to be a hothouse human being.

It doesn’t make sense in a world where pear trees and seeds produce pears and more pear trees; cows give birth to cows; sunflowers – sunflowers, but human beings crawled from the slime in a great and arduous ascent into what, eternity?? Isn’t that what Noah Harari is saying: “We shall live forever” (through his trans-humanist agenda)? Human beings came from previous human beings and so on, of that we can be sure.

What is this so-called prophet saying but I am my own creator, I am my own god. I have the power to give life (Woah! Noah! No- you don’t!) Therefore, the irrationality goes: My will KNOWS NO LIMITS.

The World Leaders which so laboriously reject the Son of God Who gives life to the dead (spiritually and physically) now claim to possess His Powers. They claim to be like Him in dominion as well: all nations shall bow down and serve them, they imagine. If these are the choices, the Son of God or imposters who are completely insane, that sort solves the mystery.

I said my hens have a haven because they are loved (because I labor daily to secure their well-being). Looks like with what is transpiring on the world stage, I am going to need a whole lotta love!!

America: Behold your God!!

My hens are rugged. I admire them. There’s something beautiful about creatures, alone in a wilderness except for me to provide for them occasionally, and they do not fear. They are not riled up about this or that. They don’t abuse the other birds in the yard. There is a harmony that exists, to the degree the animals have social compacts with each other, perhaps.

The birds from Canada blend nicely with our rugged, New England birds that don’t go south for the winter. Chickadees, cardinals, Blue Jays, all find room in the sky and take turns at the feeder. It is possible when there is a crowd at the feeder, for birds to freely fly somewhere else. That is the wonder of free birds, there are lots of “seeds” to choose from. Our whole landscape is full of food producing plants and trees. Pine trees, according to Thoreau, open cones when it is windy, and gradually shower their seeds for maximum distribution through out the season. Birch trees release seeds gradually all winter. A continual supply!

Of course, the birds don’t need me to tell them that. I am simply fascinated by it All and seeking the harmony that exists. Seeds, wind, trees, and liberty. The happy harmony is pleasant to observe.

My hens wander freely near my house, and I enjoy how healthy and strong they are getting from exercise. Liberty makes them safe from predators because they can fly away when they need to escape. They are stronger and more alert than hens that languish in too confined spaces. Just like when we exercise, it makes us feel alive.

I like that my birds come back in the evening. They don’t have to, technically. Seems they like me! No resentment, no oppression. Perhaps they instinctively ‘know’ that it can be nerve racking being free all day, by yourself, with potential predator threats. They must know this, because they neatly meander from tree to bush to hedge, all places where they have branches to disguise them. Sort of like the Pink Panther sneaks in people’s homes from couch to chair to lamp.

My husband and I continued our conversation about Rat. Although I retain my previous opinion that all things in nature serve a purpose, I realize the purpose may be only to teach us things. My husband noted that rats infest unkempt places- citing dirty conditions in the cities during the Middle Ages.

Rats prey upon our excesses. My mother had regularly left a pile of food outside the house. Every day. And Rat has been in the neighborhood ever since. I scolded my mother finally when the Bobcat showed up. I think he could take my little mother and I’d have another Greek tragedy on my hands.  

My latest criticism of Rat is: Why doesn’t he go gather food like all the other rodents? Why is his single object to attach itself to the hens’ food supply- reducing it certainly and possibly contaminating it? He’s not likely carrying the Plague otherwise we’d be forced to get vaccines. But he may just have germs, spreading contamination. He is a scavenger after all. God knows what he eats.

Possibly hen’s immune system will discourage any too serious germ problems from Rat. Squeeze is still sneaking about and occasionally grabs some food. So, I must keep up their healthy diet and exercise routine. Fresh air, sunshine.

My husband and I will have to agree to disagree on Rat, until further notice. We can add that to our list of other things we disagree on: Like why the North won the Civil War? I think the Anglican South was wrong and Pride is not a virtue. Virtue makes one strong unlike vanity. Vanity is a vice! We’ve a date this weekend to continue that conversation.

Two hens in a hutch and more storms brewing. My hens are like barometers. Sensitive creatures exist on a frequency and pick up signals that I cannot see. It sounds like Farmers’ Almanac to say, but let’s be honest. The amount of knowledge we can learn from studying our environment, observing our friends and neighbors, our world, observing storms and nature. ‘Knowing’ our charges, hens or otherwise. Everything speaks and though the language is not a traumatized version of the English language like ours, we are immersed in meaning. It’s everywhere!

Today, I am recovering from a trial I spoke of fondly yesterday. My trials inform me of my mistakes, I own them, and learn from them. The hutch is tidy today. There are no Interlopers, no Squeeze. Hens huddled in a hutch are free of frivolity – my ancestors would be proud.

My early childhood education didn’t discuss history much. My college professors generally taught history in such a way as exploded my vanity to believe no human beings that ever existed before our generation have anything of value to contribute. They made me think I had god-like powers. I am the Way!! An antithetical message to two heroes of history: Marcus Aurelius who says: “The obstacle is the way”: And Jesus Christ, who says: “I am the Way.”

My Jewish friends taught me: “Keep History Before You.” Like a roadmap or blueprint of the knowledge and experience of previous generations- so that we could imagine a world free of the errors previous people made. And we could build where other generations left off. Restore what might have been without bringing the horror and shame of the past into the our new World.

There’s probably a great ocean of miraculous people who are buried in history waiting to be heard. Like I said, we are immersed in meaning.

Hens in a hutch, free from frivolity, immersed in meaning. If my theory is true that our environment past, present, future, speaks, and everything in it- then logic dictates that the storms demand my full attention. What are the storms saying? What do they mean?