Chickens

The Cabbage of Illumination

/ Karin Wiberg / 1 Comment
Animated_cabbage

Chicken tetherball (GIF)

Chickens peck at the cool, fresh globe
stabbed by an eyescrew, hung by a chain,

heads bobbing with each playful bite
as they bat the food-toy one to the next,

back and forth, back and forth, and
I stand, a child in the museum foyer,

hypnotized watching a hundred-pound ball
knock down pegs as it swings in easy

rotation—or rather, as its path stays fixed
and the earth spins beneath—

back and forth, back and forth, and
every few minutes, the sound—click—

of Foucault’s proof. Today I muse
Did the French devise tetherball too?

I recently took a (free) poetry on Coursera, Sharpened Visions, taught by Douglas Kearney from the MFA program at the California Institute of Arts. It was a 6-week class that covered the basics of writing poetry and offered several assignments for practice. (If you’re interested, the next round starts September 12, 2016.)

As a fairly experienced poet, I found the course a good refresher, and I even took away a few new terms (synecdoche, metonymy). The sample poems studied were fresher than one often finds in an introductory level poetry class, which offered a chance to meet some new voices. I’d also note the instructor has an amusing (to me) sense of humor and the production quality of the videos is high relative to other online courses I’ve taken.

Week 2 of the class focused on image (things you can literally touch/taste/see/hear/smell) and abstraction (things for which we have symbols, e.g., a heart for love). One of the fun assignments was to make up a title in the format “The [Concrete noun] of [Abstract noun],” then write that poem.

Thus, I present “The Cabbage of Illumination.”

Annabel’s Stone

/ Karin Wiberg / 8 Comments

As I mentioned in my last post, we had to euthanize our chicken Anne over Christmas. She was ill and we took her to the NCSU Vet Hospital. They were kind and compassionate during the whole process. We got to stay with Anne while they administered the lethal drugs, and they even told us they would just send the bill so we wouldn’t have to worry about it on our way out all red-eyed.

They scheduled an autopsy and told us that afterward either they could cremate the body for collective burial with other animals or we could have Anne’s cremains returned to us for a charge. Well, my mind flitted briefly over the idea of burying little Annabel next to Victoria’s Stone by the Japanese maple. (We still say hallo to Victoria when we walk by.) Though I felt a vague lack of closure with no body to bury, having cremains sent to us seemed too much fuss over a chicken.

The vet’s office called us the next day with preliminary autopsy results (at that point Marek’s, a viral disease, was suspected) and said it would take a few weeks to get the final report. A couple weeks later the bill came in a simple plain no. 11 envelope. A second larger envelope also arrived. It seemed an odd shape, but I assumed it would be the autopsy results.

When I opened the package I found a burgundy, sheer mesh, drawstring gift bag. It held a plaque similar to those that kindergartners make for their parents. You know the kind—soft clay or plaster of Paris with a handprint and a name and year etched in with a toothpick. Only this plaque had a chicken footprint in it along with a little red heart and the name ANNE in stamped letters. Enclosed was a card with handwritten notes from the vet and staff.

My goodness you could have knocked me over with a feather—and not a sturdy wing feather or tail feather. One of those downy little chick feathers would have felled me.

There it was: Annabel’s Stone.

Anne_footprint

Annabel’s Stone

Many thanks to Dr. Bethany Walters and the staff and students at NC State Vet Hospital. My husband and I were grateful for the memorial, but even more touched by the kind thoughts and compassion that went into making it for us.

A few weeks ago we got the results of the microscopic autopsy. The cause of Anne’s illness ended up not being Marek’s but rather oviductal adenocarcinoma (cancer), which had also spread to several other organs. Getting the final autopsy results reminded me I hadn’t finished the story. And now I have.

What do you think? Best vet ever?

Anne’s Walk

/ Karin Wiberg / 2 Comments

One last promenade
atop the coop before
a long solstice night.

Margaret, Anne, and Victoria in better days

Christmas week we lost another chicken, the second in 2015 (we lost Victoria in February). Poor little Anne had been showing some oddities throughout the year but in December she started showing more specific symptoms (lack of appetite, lethargy, etc.), and just before solstice we took her to the vet at NC State. We weren’t willing to do extensive tests and treatment, and the vet said even with them, Anne probably had something serious (e.g., cancer rather something simple like worms).

We decided to euthanize her and have an autopsy done. Preliminary results suggested Marek’s, which is a viral disease chickens are susceptible to. While our chickens were vaccinated for Marek’s, chances are the vaccination wears off at some point (it probably varies by breed). In Anne’s case, the disease resulted in tumors all over her insides that compressed her egg-laying apparatus as well as her GI tract.

We were relieved that the autopsy results showed she had something wrong that we couldn’t have prevented. (We want to be good chickenparents!) And we felt comfortable that we made the right decision about euthanization. As a side benefit, the NC State vet program lets the veterinary students do the autopsies as part of their studies; it made us happy to contribute in that way too.

The photos on this page are not recent. As the chickens have aged, they’ve been less interested in jumping up to the heights. (Leave that for the little chirps!) But shortly before Anne got sick she started flapping up to the top of the coop again. Margaret would follow sometimes, but she is bigger and ungainlier than Anne was, so struggled to get her heft up there. When the chickens jump up to the coop (or chair or bench), we always imagine they are saying, “I like to be tall, Chickenmama! I like to see everything, Chickenpapa!” I guess she wanted one last look before the dark night came.

We miss you, little Annabel! Bye-bye!

take a bow

Day 18 #NPM15 – Two vowels/Two fowls

/ Karin Wiberg / Leave a comment

black hens preen

beaks make feathers gleam

each hen a queen

Margaret and Anne preening

Margaret and Anne preening

 

Check out that twisty neck and whitish eyelid

Check out that twisty neck and whitish eyelid

When chickens preen they take oil from the urophygial gland near the base of the tail and distribute it throughout their feathers. Preening cleans the feathers and the oil keeps the feather “filaments” (that’s probably not the right word) together and improves the feathers’ insulation and waterproof properties. When the oil gets “stale,” the chickens dustbathe to get it off; then they preen with fresh oil. (I don’t mean to sound like it is an infrequent activity—chickens actually spend a fair amount of the day preening.)

Also kind of interesting, preening tends to take place as a group activity. From an evolutionary standpoint, it is probably safer to have the whole flock preen together; that way at any one time some chicken’s eye is watching for predators. With our little flock, only two at the moment, they have demonstrated a preference to be under a bush while preening—also a safety instinct, I would guess.

The whitish eyelid you see in the second picture (it’s on Anne) is the nictitating membrane—sort of an extra eyelid. My understanding is that chickens use it kind of as PPE (personal protective equipment). You tend to see it when they are dustbathing (presumably to keep the dust out of their eyes) or when they are preening (I suppose to avoid poking themselves with a feather as they’re digging in). They use a different eyelid (the lower one) when sleeping. The top eyelid apparently doesn’t move much.

BTW today’s poetry prompt was to write a poem using only two vowels (a and e in this case). Not a very good poem, but it was fun to get pix of the preening.

Day 16 #NPM15 – Ode to my Gallus gallus domesticus

/ Karin Wiberg / 2 Comments

Oh, my dear Gallus gallus domesticus,
I remember your hatching—a precocial chick—
then those months as a pullet before you
matured into a hen. I want you to know
I’ve never cared about your TBC1D1 gene,
but I sure do appreciate that TSHR switch.
Operant conditioning? Couldn’t manage you
without it. I’m impressed with your beak’s
somatic sensory nerve cells.
And your 31 vocalizations—I might not
recognize them all, but I do know
INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!
BEHOLD! I HAVE OVULATED! and
MONOTONY! TEDIUM! ENNUI!!!
Yes, my Gallus gallus domesticus,
I am grateful to your red junglefowl progenitor,
but ever so glad you can’t aviate as well.

Margaret and Daffodil

Margaret and Daffodil

***

Today’s prompt came from Poetic Asides: write a science poem. As I am taking Coursera’s course “Chicken Behaviour and Welfare” aka #chickenmooc, I thought I would apply my Week 1 learnings.

And now, once again, in English…

***

Ode to my Chicken

Oh, my dear chicken,
I remember your hatching—a hungry little fluffball—
then those months as a teenager before you
bloomed into a hen. I want you to know
I’ve never cared if you get big (we don’t plan to eat you),
but I sure do appreciate your eggs all winter.
Scratch is your favorite food—gets you back in the coop
every time. I’m impressed how your beak can pick up
oatmeal dust from the pavement.
And your 31 funny noises—I might not
recognize them all, but I do know
ALARM! ALARM! ALARM! ALARM! ALARM!
LOOK AT ME! I LAID AN EGG! and
BORED! BORRRR-ING! BORED!!!
Yes, my dear chicken,
I am grateful to your red junglefowl ancestor,
but ever so glad you can’t fly as well.

Day 10 #NPM – Abecedarian

/ Karin Wiberg / 4 Comments

A little flock of
black Australorp
chickens
doesn’t eat much; it
eats everything.
Foliage is
gobbled up gone.
Hens have
insatiable appetites,
just like you would if you
kept pumping out an egg a day.
Let me tell you, our un-
manageable chickens are
notorious for ruining
our tomato seedlings,
prancing on them—
quit that! They
run away to
scratch in the garden or
take refuge
under the holly bush when the
very angry chickenpapa sees his flats.
What the
[x-rated language here]?!?! Look out or I’ll send
you all to a
“zoo!”
***

Oh, the nice thing about writing a poem a day is that you’re forced to write some bad poems. This one comes courtesy of napowrimo and is an abecedarian, which typically has lines or stanzas that start with each letter of the alphabet sequentially.

OK, I’ll be caught up if I can manage one more poem for today…

Day 4 #NPM15 – Celebration

/ Karin Wiberg / Leave a comment

Chicken choir sings

Behold the miracle of the day—

Easter eggs!

Yes, chickens like to brag on their egg-laying prowess. “See what I have made!” (That one is not ours. I think ours might even be louder. Just imagine the cacophony when they all join in to praise their sister hen.)

I hope you’re all having a nice Sunday, happy Passover, happy Easter, or whatever holiday or egg-laying event you prefer to celebrate. In our heretical household, we go for Happy Zombie Jesus Day! 😉

Day 2 #NPM15 – Spring Cold

/ Karin Wiberg / 4 Comments

Chicken alarm wakes

me from sick sleep—where the hell

is that snooze button?

***

I wrote this yesterday but forgot to post it. Spent most of the day sleeping as much as I could. Horrible chest cold… Chickens have a very distinctive alarm call—kind of like a car alarm. It usually goes for few minutes then stops, but it’s hard to ignore…

Day 1 #NPM15 – Chicken Haiku & Rimas

/ Karin Wiberg / 1 Comment
Margaret & Anne digging for worms

Margaret & Anne digging for worms

Chickens dig.

Earthworms zig…too slow!

It’s time to eat!

***

Happy April. Happy National Poetry Month 2015 (#NPM15). I figure it’s time to get serious about posting again, so we’ll shoot for a poem a day during the special month of April. But I’m warning you now—they may be mostly chicken haiku.

Incidentally despite my lack of recent posts, I still get some regular traffic. I can always tell when some high school or college Spanish class is translating poetry. Back in 2012 I posted a few translations of Gustavo Adolpho Bécquer’s Rimas. They are my MOST POPULAR POSTS EVER. (I think I’m a little insulted that my own work doesn’t get more attention. Heh.) Some days I think I should hide them and make the poor kids do their own work.

In case you’re interested (and they do make pretty good reading for #NPM15), in order of popularity…

Rima XXI – By far the most popular, currently around 1650 views.

Rima XXIII – Around 650 views.

Rima XXXVIII – Around 400 views.

Rima XVII – Around 250 views.

Almost everything else of mine has well under 100 views. So, this is not a brag fest on how popular my blog is—just an interesting side note on what people are searching for that gets them here. And yes, visitors do seem to look at more than one page. They look at the other Rimas—but only if they’re part of the homework assignment!! After that, I’m pretty sure they never return. You’d think they could at least give me a Like or something…