Death 2, Life 3 The rest of the story

Michael and Zsa Zsa, RIP

Well, Sunday wasn't over after our sad experience with the hawk and our beautiful hen.  Jerry confessed that something (probably the same hawk) had also killed sweet Zsa Zsa, our sweetest and tamest hen, and said he hadn't wanted to tell me at the time. 

I think the hawk must have struck and wounded her and she sought refuge in the nesting box and died there.  We'll never know, though.  Not a speck of blood or any obvious wound.

However, we went home after getting everybody tucked inside the Chicken Hilton and Jerry made ready for his grand experiment: chocolate covered pecans.  He's talked about them for years, and we bought some on our recent trip to Fredericksburg and they disappeared suspiciously fast (not that I had anything to do with it). 

Jerry making chocolate covered pecans

Anyway, the afternoon was given over to cracking and shelling and melting and dipping.  In the midst of it all, the phone rang.  It was Anita.

"Well, guess what?" she said, "We have a little kitty."

"One?" I replied.

Yes.  It turned out that Skitty Kitty (as I call her), whom I had divined  might be in the family way, had delivered herself of a baby at 1:00 AM that morning, under the bed of a brand new weekend resident assistant staying over at the Ranch for the first time by the name of Diana.

"I heard noises under the bed, and then I heard this tiny baby kitty sound, and looked under the bed and the mama kitty was cleaning it off and it was just crying and crying," said Diana.


Skitty with her baby

Skitty appeared several months ago, emaciated and scared, and although we've all been feeding her, she was not allowed into a house because we don't have cats in the houses.  For months she wouldn't let anyone near her, and lived in the culverts of the Village.  She made the rounds of the houses at mealtimes and we all fed her.  I was amazed she'd eluded the coyotes for so long, but she was agile and wary, and those traits served her well.

When the temperature fell to the teens however, Anita asked if she could bring her inside and I said of course, if she'd go.  To leave her outside would be inhumane.  She's really bonded with the girls of Teresa House, so that was the logical house anyway.

Baby kitty seemed exceptionally large and vigorous to me.  I didn't try to pick him or her up.  I examined mama and felt two more in there, and sure enough last night they were born.  Natalie and Crystal are ecstatic.



Jerry's chocolate covered pecans



Back to the chocolate covered pecans.  They are delicious! 

But I had to tell Jerry the truth:  They look distressingly like large bugs. 

He huffed, but you can judge for yourself.

So at this point on Super Bowl Sunday the score stands at Death: 2   Life: 3.  Be not proud indeed!









Death Comes to the Chicken Hilton

Jerry holds hen just killed by hawk

It had to happen sooner or later.

I'd just walked out of the barn to go get my camera in the car, and saw a large hawk standing on the ground just the other side of one of the garden beds.  A blizzard of tiny feathers were streaming away from his feet, caught up on the brisk southern breeze.

Jerry was over by the Chicken Hilton.

"Hawk!" I yelled, and ran toward the predator, which quickly took to the air and settled on a nearby bush. 

The audacity of that bird!  I thought. 

He'd struck not 20 feet from where Jerry was working.

Not only that, he showed no signs of leaving his kill, either.  I finally ran after him and shooed him further away, but I know where he lives--over in Sara's Garden--and I know he'll soon be back.

I hoped against hope that maybe the large buff hen I saw lying on the ground was just stunned, but no such luck.  Hawks probably don't make mistakes like that too often.

I picked her up. She was so warm.  Her pretty head drooped loosely, the neck neatly snapped.  If only I'd come out of the barn 30 seconds before!

I walked over to the Hilton, put the hen on the back of Jerry's cart, and helped him coop up the rest of the chickens.  They were rattled and skittish, and it took a while to get them in.

Guess we'll have to have a chicken shepherd from now on when we let them out to roam.  A new job description to write!

It's a little death, I guess, but Jerry and I were talking just yesterday about how much sheer fun the chickens are, what joy they bring, and how much joy they seem to get from their simple little lives.

Not to mention the eggs.

Well, if He knows when the sparrows fall, He knows when the chickens fall, too.  He cares about the hawk no less, and in the end we shall all be delivered into a mightier hand.