The Coop Chronicles - Little pieces of art
Having a pet is like having a little piece of art in your life. They inspire us and make us see the world in a different way. Even if we don’t always understand them, we know that they are there for us. They might only be in our life for a very little period of time, but the beauty they bring us lasts forever. Still, having a pet is something we can always be thankful for, no matter how long they’ve been in our lives.
This is an epilogue of thoughts, which may or may not have any logical sequence or even make sense.
I still remember the day I brought home the chickens. They were so cute and fluffy, and I had 24 of them. I had always wanted to have my own chickens, so I built a cozy coop for them in the backyard. I enjoyed watching them grow and explore their surroundings. They made me happy with their clucking and pecking. They were like my little feathered friends. But they also gave me a lot of trouble. They would fight with each other over food and space, and sometimes they would escape from the coop and run around. I had to chase them and bring them back to the coop because they were always followed by crows and eagles. It was exhausting and frustrating. Sometimes I wondered why I ever got them in the first place.
As time went by, the chickens grew bigger and bigger. They outgrew the coop and needed more space to roam. So I decided to fence off a part of the backyard and let them have their own area. It was the best decision I ever made. They loved their new freedom and they became more calm and friendly. They stopped fighting and started cooperating. They learned to go in and out of the coop by themselves, and they even started laying eggs. It was amazing to see them thrive and flourish. It was then that I realized how much I cared for them and how much they enriched my life.
Every morning, I would wake up to the sound of the chickens. They were loud and noisy, and they would start their day very early. They would cluck and crow and flap their wings, announcing their presence to the world. My room was on the first floor and it faced the backyard, so I had a clear view of them. Sometimes I would watch them from my window, admiring their colors and movements. Other times I would get annoyed by their racket and try to block them out with a pillow over my ears. But I could never stay mad at them for long. They were part of my family, and I loved them.
One day, I noticed something strange. One of the chickens was sitting on the ground and not moving. I thought maybe she was just resting or laying an egg, so I didn’t pay much attention. The next day, I counted the chickens and realized one was missing. I looked inside the coop and saw her lying there, unable to stand up. I felt a surge of panic and worry. I searched online and found out she had a disease that affected her nerves and muscles. It was contagious and fatal. I had to isolate her from the rest of the flock and try to make her comfortable. But there was nothing I could do to save her. She died a few days later, after struggling to eat and walk. It broke my heart to see her suffer and die. It taught me how fragile life is and how much I cared for my chickens.
As the time went by, I had to give away most of my chickens to friends and family. Some of them moved away, some of them got old, some of them got sick. It was hard to say goodbye to them, but I knew they would be happy and well cared for. In the end, I was left with only two chickens: a rooster and a hen. They were the oldest and the smartest of the flock. They were inseparable and loyal to each other. I named them Razak and Sarah. They were like a lovely couple. They would cuddle and groom each other, and they would protect each other from any danger. They were my favorite chickens, and I loved them dearly.
Razak and Sarah had a special bond that was rare to see. They were always together and they cared for each other deeply. If one of them disappeared from sight, the other one would panic and look for them. They were in love. I became very close to Razak. He was friendly and curious, and he would follow me everywhere. He would eat from my hand and share my food. I think he did that because he trusted me and liked me. Sarah was more independent and adventurous. She would wander around the backyard, looking for bugs and worms. Razak adored her. I remember one time it was raining and he sheltered her under his wing. Another time he found some corn and he called her over and let her eat it first. He was very generous and noble. I respected him a lot.
In his last days, he was quiet and solemn. He seemed like a man who had a duty to his family and would fulfill it at any cost. I remember him today and that’s why I’m writing about him. I miss him and Sarah and all the other chickens. I wish I could see them again and relive their memories. But then I think that this is how life works. Death is a gift of nature to us. We may not understand it. But there is something beautiful in it too. It makes us appreciate what we have and what we had. It makes us cherish the moments we shared with our loved ones. It makes us grateful for the life we lived.
This is the story of my chickens. They were more than just animals to me. They were my friends and my family. They taught me many things about life and love. They made me happy and sad. They gave me joy and sorrow. They were a part of me and I was a part of them. I will never forget them and I will always love them. They were the best chickens in the world.
If you are reading this, I hope you enjoyed my story. I hope you learned something from it. I hope you felt something from it. I hope you can relate to it. Maybe you have your own chickens or your own pets. Maybe you have your own stories to tell. Maybe you have your own memories to cherish. Whatever it is, I hope you appreciate it and celebrate it. Life is a precious gift and we should make the most of it. Thank you for reading and thank you for listening.
Until next time, peace :)