I believe in anthropomorphism: animals have feelings and human qualities. The more theological quest for the soul, I will leave to the learned people involved in these issues. When I was six, I had a bantam rooster by the name of Charlie. He was only twelve inches tall (30.5 centimeters), but he thought that he was a giant. He controlled his flock of hens tenaciously, fending off the intrusions of the much larger Rhode Island Red roosters. Charlie, however, as do many seemingly powerful people, suffered from an advanced state of hubris and constantly forgot who he truly was.
It all began with his dislike for Max, our bulldog. Max was not particularly bright, but he was aggressive. More than once he knocked one of my baby brothers down in a rather serious game of male dominance. He and Charlie competed for alpha supremacy in our British-style garden. Thrust into this burgeoning war was my elderly grandfather. He had spent the better part of his life at sea and understood controlling and directing men, but not our animal compatriots. His view of our little farm bordered on the romantic. On one of his sojourns to our family, he began to feed the chickens. The fowl were housed in a rather large “run” and it was accessed through a large red door. It had to be unbolted and then the feed pellets could be liberally put into their food containers. Chickens are somewhat wary creatures and tend to hold back and wait until the person has distributed the feed and left.
On this particular day, Grandfather forgot to close the door. This allowed Charlie to expand his empire and patrol our expansive lawn. He caught sight on my grandfather, slowly and peacefully meandering to the back door of our home. An intruder: He stealthy stalked his victim, flew up at the good man and, in the process, knocked his glasses off. As Grandfather bent down to retrieve them, he struck: driving his spurs into the poor gentleman’s buttocks. The following events included rounds of apology and explanations centered on Charlie’s personality; he was thus spared to “fight another day.” This incident was soon put into our collection of family myths.
Charlie had only to humiliate his nemesis and the world would be his. He waited and planned his attack with the wisdom of the ages. On this particular day, Max was distracted by a large bone. Our little rooster, once again free and somehow out of his enclosure, crossed the lawn and struck with all the force of Operation Barbarossa. (1) The fight was on: strikes were met with counter- strikes, thrusts with counter-thrusts. Sadly for Charlie, the simple act of removing Max from his bone had totally enraged the dog. He fought with deadly ferocity. The battle soon degenerated into a bloodlust; feathers flew everywhere. The commotion roused our family from dinner. But, “The die had been cast.”
When we arrived, Charlie’s lifeless body was being tossed into the air in a kind of death dance. It was one of those moments that you remember. Max was punished by removing the bird from his mouth and not allowing him to continue his vicious behavior. No other animals sought to challenge Max in the future.
Several years after this, I decided to raise chickens professionally: this was my very first business adventure and it ended in abject failure. I had a business partner and together we discovered a company that sold day-old sexed chickens. We only wanted male birds for meat. There was a company based in Winnipeg called Shaver (1) that specialized in hatching chicks: we bought one hundred hybrids, aptly named Starcross 288. These could mature in two to three months and then be slaughtered. An incubator was essential. I convinced my sister to lend me her rather large dollhouse that my father had lovingly constructed when she was young. Perfect!
The first problem began when my partner suggested that his birds were larger. You can remark on this absurdity of this when all the chicks were mixed together. This led to a partnership quarrel and the collapse of our friendship; he took his birds to his house. The problems continued: as the fowl matured, they needed then own run. The old run had a net covering, this new one did not. I somehow believed that these chickens would not fly.
One day as I was walking home from school, I noticed that the side of our house, which held my mother’s exquisite rose garden, was on fire. As I rushed closer, I realized that it was not fire but dust. My entire collection of fifty birds was in the process of dusting themselves; broken rose bushes were tossed everywhere. My mother promptly arrived and together we tearfully shooed the animals away. A decision was inevitable; the fowl were quickly sold, at a loss. The rose garden was slowly replaced and there was no more discussion of entrepreneurial endeavors. My mother obviously had feelings too. The great poet and author, Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919), leaves us with a thought: No difficulty can discourage, no obstacle dismay, no trouble dishearten the man who has acquired the art of being alive. Difficulties are but dares of fate, obstacles but hurdles to try his skill, troubles but bitter tonics to give him strength; and he rises higher and looms greater after each encounter with adversity (Parts of this essay were first published in February 2012)
A closing thought: It is truly important that we come to appreciate all creatures, both big and small. (3) Mother Earth is presently in desperate need of our respect and appreciation. We are commodifying nature at a level unprecedented in history. The industrialization of our food supply, for one, is placing deadly stress on the ecosystem. (4) We seem to be on a terminal path if our behavior is not altered. So, the next time you arbitrarily kill anything annoying or frightening – yes, including a cockroach. Remember: it must have someplace in our environment or it wouldn’t exist. No, I am not a Jain. (5)
To sum up: This week we spoke about our approach to animals and how they interact with us.
To be noted: Wise men speak because they have something to say; fools lecture because they have to say something.
Just for fun: Daniel Barenboim
For reflection: Money, happiness and eternal life
This week on your contemplative walk, please consider your own animal friends
Every day look for something magical and beautiful.
Quote: How do we expel the demons and allow our life to blossom? The answer only resides within.
Footnotes:
1). Operation Barbarossa was the code name for Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union (USSR) during the Second World War. Beginning on June 22nd, 1941, over 4 million soldiers of the Axis powers (Germany and her allies) invaded the USSR along a 2,900 km (1,800 mi) front, the largest invasion in the history of warfare.
2) Shaver
4) How Corporations Ruined Food
5) Jainism