Copper Chronicles

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?  

My husband suggested hens’ aversion to rats originated in Europe during the plague. I can see why rubbery skulled, slithering creatures who carry disease give people creeps.

When I saw Rat, whom I affectionately named Squeeze, playing in the excessive straw that my childish mind imagined was “good” for the hen pen, it occurred to me to avoid stereotypes.

Squeeze’s ancestors likely did not plan the destruction of civilization, did they? Can you convict a creature of a crime if there is no “mens rea”? Can a Rat who has a pinhead possess the guilty mind or “criminal intention” necessary for punishment?   

My sister is “Old School.” She said I should shoot it. That was before I named him. I am not ready for another crisis of conscience. Yesterday we removed the excess straw that Squeeze was frolicking in, so he must continue finding his way according to his own nature. Rats have lived thousands of years without my help. Squeeze will be fine!

My husband also mentioned “Rat” means traitors in criminal business enterprises. Pinheads who are human beings clearly are more capable of “willful intent” (mens rea) although ‘guilty mind’ is questionable. Is the guilt of the mind or of the heart, or both?

My hens are out enjoying their fabulous forsythia hedge. It’s a tangled mess of branches so fun to navigate and explore. It’s perfect protection from predators.

I hope Rat redeems himself by continuing his way and not plotting any retaliation against me because of his removal from the pen. Squeeze may be a pinhead, but I have no proof he is a malevolent pinhead.

Now I know why we have trials (that is adversity, strains, and problems) to see what the truth about our nature is. Like “trials” in the sense of a criminal trial, where we sort out the facts to see whether the accused is guilty or innocent. Suffering is good, my trials are good, that is my conclusion, in the sense that it saves me from being a pinhead, willfully or ignorantly.

As for Rats generally speaking, one must not stereotype a person or creature. You need proof of ill-will. Did they plan to spread disease? Rats? How do you know? You need a trial. You need to seek truth. You need to study one’s nature in the trial.

The hens went to the hen playground yesterday. Such a liberating feeling for hens to do what hens enjoy and for me to be free of the anxious vigil.

Thinking about nature and finding out what is my moral obligation as a human being is satisfying. Finding meaning and purpose is the prize of living! The spell check asked if I meant to say “price” of living. They do seem related. But I meant to say “Prize.” I have not only discovered a Great Truth, but I have also been rewarded for just pursuing It. The Great Truth is the Prize!

I went through my mind menu of practical lessons yesterday and discovered lessons that worked. Not meditating on “What may happen?” Fear. Fear is nature’s psychopath. Why would I listen to a psychopath?

Own responsibility. It is easy to say. But deciding what IS and IS NOT my responsibility adds a layer of exploration where I root out what appears to be the problem from what IS the problem.

The problem isn’t Rat, or weasel, or hay. The problem was My willful choice to ignore a warning in my heart about too much hay. The problem is subsequent squalor conditions that arise from my willful ignorance. Doing “good” feels good! Yes, but Who defines what is “good”?

Clearly human beings cannot arrive at what is truly “good” without some existential knowledge to guide them. What we Think is good and what feels good clearly is not always good.

I feel stupid saying that, but there it is. That is why owning responsibility of the ROOT problem helps me solve and prevent future problems. The reward of happy, hardy hens awaits!

I am fortunate my husband is an engineer, who is helping me restore the hen pen to one that is free from my mistakes. It is nice to have a husband who doesn’t say: “I told you so.”  

In my story “Hens in a Hovel,” I suggested that hens are living in a difficult, even hostile environment. While a hovel suggests squalor, the low conditions (poor quality commercial food and non-existent health care) is not one I can easily change myself. In “Wet Hens” I explored the idea that Job demonstrated more confidence in the power of evil to destroy him than in the power of God to deliver him.

I think people generally understand that we suffer for our own foolishness? Except a foolish person will wield a hammer sloppily, strike his thumb, and curse “Jesus Christ!” (You’re the dummy with the hammer in your hand. I am sorry. You- hit- your- own- hand- with- a- hammer.)

It’s possible this world has become a hothouse environment which is why such delusional thinking exists. If you live in a safe-secure environment where everything is ‘fixed,’ where no challenges arise, and your participation in any useful enterprise is optional, people become weak, lazy, and ungrateful.

Camille Paglia suggests our civilization and its corruption is rooted in an obsession with self (for lack of better things to do). Wealth and privilege breeds ingratitude and narcissism. Uselessness.

I am guilty of spoiling my hens. When I received a warning in my heart to avoid spreading too much hay, I ignored it. Guilty! My hens spend too much time in the too warm hutch (too little light, fresh and activity). Rat cleverly positioned himself to enjoy the hay, while remaining in his underground existence. I am suffering because my workload just increased (trying to undo the damage).

However, I learned when I suffer to:

1. Avoid the anxious vigil like Job confessing Fear.
2. Face the problem by owning my failure and learn. Accountability.
3. Realize that the problem is the way (Marcus Aurelius). Avoiding life’s tests, we will continue in repeating cycles of defeat.

I am thankful for the lesson from the “Hothouse” I created. Hardy, useful hens have more fun. They are sturdy, reliable, and competent to face life’s challenges! Weak, wimpy ones fail (and their human counterparts) curse God for their own failures as though life is a conspiracy against them with Jesus Christ at the top. He is at the top. But our foolishness is entirely our own!

As a responsible hen owner, it is my duty to remove the hothouse conditions that are enabling the demise of the creatures I love. There will be discomfort, change, shock, and Awe! But it is ultimately for their own good.  

Hens are hiding out in their favorite location, a tangled overgrown twiggy mess which technically speaking is called a forsythia hedge. Forsythias grow like willows, that is, when a branch touches the ground, it will grow roots into it and continue sprouting more branches. The hedge looks like a jungle gym- hoop over hoop- like a giant twiggy fortress. Hens did not take a course in “Hen Security” but they found the safest spot in the yard and spend hours there unsupervised. Nature out-thought my best mechanization to create a safe pen! I really ought to spend more time thinking about nature.

The hens are ignoring me again but that is not unusual. The miscommunication starts with me not speaking “Chickenese” as my husband noted. The hens exist on another frequency that does not easily translate to my own. When I want the hens to come home, I usually sprinkle breadcrumbs to lead them to their safe hutch, water, and food dish. As the person, I reason this out to be necessary. However, on their frequency they’re having “hen time” doing “hen things” and don’t require any assistance.

The scene resembles when children are playing, and “mom” interrupts and ruins the fun. Mom is the interloper in that scenario. That must hurt a bit. It doesn’t hurt me that my hens ignore me, but I can see how it may hurt a mom or parent or God to be excluded from the action of the children they love.

It’s pouring rain and the hens have their exquisite outdoor gear on. Beautiful, weatherproof, apparel with camouflaging patterns. If I designed clothes that is what I would wear: all season protective gear that looks fabulous. Fur suits would be great, too. All the fuss about energy costs. How about dressing more warmly? We may risk looking like a Sasquatch, but things get slow in New England in winter. It might be fun.

After an hour or two of anxious vigil, my long bread crumb trail helped the hens get home for the day. I think, like children, once they have satisfied their eagerness for fun and adventure, ‘home’ is more welcome. Hunger and exhaustion from playing is good in a hen and a child. My job really isn’t to be involved in every little thing they do and hovering unnecessary. That is the Interloper!

Love and fear are often confused. I think that is where Job missed it. He opened the door to fear by obsessing what bad thing may happen even though everywhere he had evidence of God’s blessing and protection. Like me today, like helicopter parents, he kept an anxious vigil believing more in the thing he feared than he did in the power and goodness of his God.

Fear is such an unhealthy and debilitating habit: meditating on the unknown rather than seeking to know the truth. Fear is nature’s psychopath perhaps, closely related to weasels who killed a neighbor’s hens but didn’t eat them. Just killed them.     

Message from hens today: Have the courage to seek truth even when you are afraid. Especially when you are afraid!

Ben Franklin is attributed to saying: “Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.” I didn’t give it much thought at first since I am a product of twentieth century egoism and think the only truth that matters is my own and my modern counterparts whose ‘truth’ (we are told) is as valuable as my ‘truth.’ That’s a liberating idea because my truth can be garbage. Like this one: “Raising hens is easy.” Or this one, “Chicken ‘security wire’ protects chickens.” See?

Franklin was warning us that “what appears to be” is only an appearance. And to warn us further, he cautions us that people’s opinions about “what appears to be” likely has no relationship to truth at all.

We can’t learn anything until we humble ourselves, that was a “truth” I learned worth keeping, so let’s start there.

The amount of things a human being must know to survive in this world with any degree of skill or satisfaction is incredible! First you must sort through the appearance of things to get to the reality of things (as Franklin warns us). That one assignment may take the rest of my life to learn and practice before developing any competency at it. Plus, you need to feed yourself and your hens (or whoever those ‘charges’ are in your life) and care for their health and well-being in a world which clearly does not particularly care about you or your well-being or your health. The FDA qualifies Twinkies as “food.” Doesn’t food need to possess nutrition to qualify as food?? And healthcare, only health care that is profitable is what matters. Hen health is not an issue. Your hens are disposable as are any creature who does not serve the so-called cloudy concept called “Progress.”

This is what happens when we are proud and foolish and do not sort out the appearance of a thing from reality of a thing as Franklin warns. It’s extremely profitable for powerful people for hens to be foolish. Eat this thing we call ‘food.’ Get sick. Buy this thing we call healthcare BUT as the disclaimer goes on television we cannot be held accountable if you get sick and die from our medications because we are powerful own everything including Washington D.C. and We make the rules. Period. That is what Franklin was warning us against.

Lesson for hens: “Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.”

The hens and I have been at the wilderness encampment for a few months now. We explored the kinds of organization methods to ensure their well-being and survival. (If your survival is at stake, fun must wait.) There is a natural order to life’s demands which you can discover if you pay attention. Like my enthusiasm for hay has wreaked havoc on the natural order of the hen- rat relationship. Now we all are suffering the consequences. 

I sensed an admonition in an earlier post when I was happily holding hay. CS Lewis calls this an “Numinous” experience- where I am not quite alone and there is some great matter at hand that I need to pay attention to. Sadly, I reasoned within myself (because foolishly we believe that is all that matters) that no ill can come of TOO MUCH HAY and smugly assumed the ominous messenger was mistaken.

The result of my over enthusiasm for hay and pride was that rat moved into the hay with as much enthusiasm as I spread it. Tunneling under and around the hutch opens doors to any creature like snakes, rats, and weasels to gain access to the coop without any hardship. There is just no way of allowing rat his fun-having without these unplanned consequences which will destroy the hen’s well-being. And mine.

Rats can’t be allowed free reign because chaos will ensue. They burrow, they gnaw, they erode the foundation upon which the hutch stands. We’ll all be swallowed up in a sink hole if rats behavior is left unchecked. The natural order suggests I decide rat’s future as I have the biggest head. So, not to demonize rat unnecessarily, I will refer to him as “Squeeze” from now on.

Although Squeeze was happy in the abundance of straw I laid, he assumed my kindness was license to do whatever he may like to do. (He has a tiny head, so he can’t be counted on to view how his behavior may adversely affect others.) Regardless of how happy I was to supply heaps of straw and how happy Squeeze was to explore and enjoy its warmth and comfort, my kindness did not equal “goodness.” How could Squeeze make such a distinction that his natural tunneling behavior was damaging? Unless he received an ominous warning and ignored it? That was my job.

The second adverse effect of me ignoring the ominous warning about supplying too much “straw” “kindness” “goodwill” as I imagined, was that the hens are spending all their time in it. I have made a “Safe Space” that is almost detrimental to their health. No light! No exercise! No experiencing New England winter in all its glory and challenges. I have smothered them, NOT mothered them to be healthy, rugged, New England hens.

Two hens hiding out in their lonely (but warm) hutch. I need to get busy building a foundation for the hutch that Squeeze cannot permeate and destroy. The hens and Squeeze are depending on me to “right” what I have wronged by my foolish behavior and bring order and harmony to our existence.

Lesson for today: Listen to the ominous warnings in your heart when you are fortunate to hear them.