Bok-Bok…Who’s There?

Since Violet’s at outdoor school, caring for the chickens is left to me.  There’s almost nothing to it; give them some grain, change the water…that’s basically it.  But each morning, even before I arrive, they’re watching.  Such curious birds, our chickens seem to wait with eager anticipation for what is surely the most excitement around the coop all day.

Their names are Flora and Althea.  They’re both lovely, with pretty patterned black and white feathers, but Flora’s feathers boast a greenish poof for a tail and she has floppy red skin under her chin where the other bird does not.  On the day they arrived, Flora was the one I just had to hold, because (despite being the same breed, probably sisters) the other one, Althea, was relatively boring looking.

Today, after a few minutes hanging out with the chickens, I realized, Althea is actually the smart one.  She’s more friendly, adventurous and even daring than her more looks-y cohort.  Althea’s the boss.

Althea and Flora, both ever-curious, bok-boked at me this morning, from the farthest corner of the coop, until Althea decided I was non-threatening enough for inspection.  What they both really wanted was to check out the fresh water and feed on the other side of me, but first they seemed to have an extended debate as to how they could safely get past.

After a couple fake-outs, where they’d come close and in a mild panic, circle back around into that farthest corner (for more bok-bok debate/pep-talk), Althea finally came up to me, looked me up and down and marched right on by.

Flora, horrified to  be left alone on one side of the coop without her other, gave me a quicker once-over, then bolted towards her friend on the far side.   Meanwhile Althea, barely paying attention anymore to the harmless intruder, discovered a circular leaf, a deep autumn red that had been stuck to the water container since I brought it in.

She picked it up with perceptible delight:  Althea took the little red leaf in her beak and trotted in two big circles around the coop, as if saying to Flora, “Ha ha ha ha ha look what I’ve got, neener neener!”

And Flora wasn’t happy about that, not one bit.  She followed the other bird in haste – yet still with great caution, giving me plenty of space.  (Maybe she remembers me accosting her that first day.)  At any rate, Flora couldn’t get to the leaf and when Althea was done showing off, she swallowed it whole.

Suddenly, I found myself  pondering what a curse it must be, to be so pretty.  Even for a chicken!  Poor Flora, so tormented for her irresistible beauty, that she grew up to be jumpy, anxious, fearful and paranoid (even for a chicken).  And Althea…  Well, Althea’s tough.

Before too long, Peaches (the pit) came down to see what was keeping me in the chicken coop.  She sniffed around the perimeter, pausing first by Flora, for an intense stare-down.  Flora stood tall and puffed up her lion’s mane of neck feathers, holding her ground before decidedly turning away, walking off in a huff.  Then Peaches came to Althea.

Althea isn’t as tall as Flora, nor does she have the magnificent neck feathers for puffing, but Althea got right up to the edge of the coop, beak to nose with the dog.  No doubt, Peaches could practically taste the bold chicken.

Suddenly, with a quick thrust of the head, Althea bit her!  Right through the mesh wall, which naturally sent Peaches into retreat…  And brings us to our chicken-led lesson of the day:  It doesn’t always pay to be the prettiest.

UPDATE ~ 11.9.2010:

It’s 6:25 in the morning and still dark out.  Dad and I were enjoying a moment on the back deck a few minutes ago, when to our astonishment, a muddled “cock-a-doodle-do” just eeked out from the coop.

We looked at each other like, “Did that just happen?”

As if reading our minds, the damn chicken did it again, with assertion.  It continued repeating itself five or six times.

Turns out, Flora is a dude.

SCORE!!!

My tooth fairy was named Mabel.  She and I wrote letters to each other, each time I lost a tooth.  When I imagined what she looked like, I just figured she was tiny and adorable.

Of course I grew up and stopped believing – even my daughter Violet has long since outgrown the magic…but when I took over as coach for her soccer team, there was Mabel, tiny and adorable as ever.

No, this girl is not my tooth fairy.  But she is one heckuva special kid.  Although I had an inkling when I met her, it wasn’t official until last Saturday…

“Coach!  Coach,” she said, jumping up and down a bit.

“Yes Mabel?”

“Coach, I had a vision,” Mabel said with her fullest enthusiasm, “There’s going to be a corner kick…and I’m going to be in the box.  And I’m going to kick it in the goal!  You’ve got to put me as forward!”

It seemed legit enough.

“Mabel,” I replied, “Visions are important.  We’d better get you in there as soon as possible.”

The next chance we got, we subbed her in.  It wasn’t five minutes before the corner kick happened, and there Mabel was, in the box.  And she kicked it in! I instantly got chills.  When I reported the incident (with glee) to her dad, he informed me it was Mabel’s first goal ever.

On top of that, we’re STILL undefeated!  GOOOOO PIRANHAS!!!

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Why Did the Snail Cross the Road?

It’s no surprise that exercise is not only more enjoyable but also much more effective when done in groups.  There’s something about the shared pains and gains that make the experience far richer than any comparable activity alone.  And it’s something I look forward to each morning, working out at PSU with Miss Triche.

We frequently take class outside where she leads us up and around Portland’s well-forested West Hills.  The view is so gorgeous, you can almost forget the hurt…

“I’m going to die,” said one student, breathlessly, from the top of a long flight of stairs on one such excursion.

“Don’t,” said another, knowingly, “She’ll kill you.”

I had to laugh.

A few days later, again we trudged up and around the Hills.  April, my favorite cohort of all the students, one who never fails to make me smile (even when she’s grumpy) ran by my side.

“I had the weirdest dream this morning,” I told her, trying to keep my voice down – it’s not easy.  I’m kind of a loud girl, but Miss Triche prefers silence while running…

I continued quietly explaining the dream to April, “I was trying to protect these little round nests on the ground, with what seemed like hummingbirds inside.  I was trying to save them from being stepped on…but I failed.  And it was heartbreaking!”

Trotting along in what sounded like a herd of elephants, Miss Triche, April and I, shoulder to shoulder ahead of the rest of the pack, then passed over what was the most incredible looking snail I had ever seen.  With a color of rich mahogany, this thing had to be almost palm sized.  For a split second, I hesitated.

It’s doomed, I thought to myself…but I must try to save it!

Without choice I stopped in my tracks and spun around, dividing the crowd of lumbering, sweaty college students, shouting, “Look out!  Look out!  There’s a huge snail you’ve got to go around!”

The mob of students miraculously parted and flowed around me, until I found myself looking at this poor snail’s fate, straight in the…chest.

Her boobs were so big, I’m not sure she could see the ground.

She said, “What snail?”

And it was crushed.  The sound seemed to reverberate off of the mountainside as Miss Triche, April and I cringed.  I felt a little sick.  The emotional roller coaster of stumbling across the raddest snail I’d ever seen, combined with the dashed hopes of saving it, made my stomach turn.

If only I had not hesitated!  Maybe the snail could have lived.

“That’s it!”  Said April, “That’s what your dream was about!”

“You know what?”  I replied, “You’re probably right.”  And then I wondered aloud with a chuckle, “Why did the snail cross the road?  To get to the afterlife!”

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