Life and death...

Will I ever get comfortable with the rhythms and cycles of life and death? It seems we have had our share of exposure to the above recently. And I'm sitting once again with my own discomfort.

It started last Thursday evening when I arrived home from work and our bunny, Curious Hiddley, would not take carrot peels from me. Portions of the full story that Jason shared with some friends can be found below. In short, Hiddley was as chipper as ever this morning when I delivered a fresh handful of dew wet plantain (a common, nutritious garden weed) and we are grateful for his renewed health after a serious scare. We thought we were going to have to say goodbye to the bunny who came home to our family so soon after Nora's death. It often becomes clear how very much you care about something when you are in danger of losing it.

Friday afternoon, a week ago, on our way to West Virginia we learned of my grandpa's death. While somewhat expected and after over 90 full years of life, what ensued was days full of reflection, remembering and being with family as we celebrated and grieved his death. While Kali and I stayed in West Virginia, Jason returned briefly to Harrisonburg to check on our mother hens and the first clutch of chicks that were due to hatch. Out of the dozen that we started with, one chick hatched and then died within about 24 hours of some kind of diarrhea.

This morning I was eager to head to the garden to pick garlic scapes, kale, lamb's quarter, spinach and lettuce to use for lunch with friends. The morning is cool and the clouds rising on the mountain created the perfect picture of serenity. Before filling my bowls with lush produce from our thriving garden, I decided to take a quick peek on the second broody hen whose chicks were due to hatch sometime between last night and tomorrow. When I looked in, she had something in her mouth and I had a very sinking feeling in my gut. As I normally do in situations like this, I called to Jason, "What is in this hen's mouth?" (like he would know without looking...)

So it seems that while our first broody hen did her very best to tend to the one chick that made it briefly into the outside world, the second hen chose (to the extent that hens can choose anything) to kill her chick. And as I often do to Jason, I asked him for an explanation. I got "nature does stuff." It's hard to not feel a little baffled and quite disappointed. There are still about 1/2 dozen eggs under her that may hatch in the next 24 hours and we wonder and wait. Will she accept others if they hatch? From my vantage point, she worked so hard (maybe it wasn't work to her) sitting faithfully, patiently, diligently for 21 days on her nest. Then to peck to death the fruits of her labor?!

On our porch we once again have a nest of Phoebes and it seems that they are tending well to their nest. We think the babies have hatched as Jason noted one of the parents removing shells from the nest. We've got quite the mixture of sentiments in our household at the moment!

Today it seems so clear that life is full of the mixture of celebrating life and grieving death and honoring many transitions. Today marks my Dad's birthday and I've just learned that his retirement clock is flashing zeros! And in just a week's time, we will find ourselves commemorating the second anniversary of Nora's death. Life, death, transitions, celebrations, remembering, grieving... I think for the rest of my life my most challenging and rewarding spiritual discipline will be to practice continually being present to all that life and death offers us.

For a more complete Curious Hiddley account:

"Last evening (Thursday, May 20th) Curious Hiddley refused a handout of carrot, his favorite, and showed other signs of doom. The results of Janelle's internet research screamed at us to haul a bunny who behaved like he was to the vet immediately...it was, they claimed, a very serious situation for him. This was not a shock to me, though I hated to see it. It was a shock to my ladies.

We had agreed at the time of acquiring ol' Curious that we would get him neutered, but then not utilize vet care for him again...it can be a very expensive and agonizing process for all involved to drag a pet's life out for those extra, waning years by means of heroic intervention. We did not want to go down that road. Having just lost Nora after a pretty medically involved seven months with her, we did not have much stomach for it.

But when the moment of truth comes, what do you actually do? You cry, for one thing. You reconsider. You have to make a decision. And if you're Janelle and Kali, you dream about it all night (we're coming up, June 4, on the anniversary of Nora's death...Janelle's dreams were dramatic, strange, and confusing). What we decided to do, through tears on the girls' part, was to cut out all fresh greens but wide plantain (a common weed that seems safe), give lots of timothy hay as per internet instructions, and sleep on it, deciding in the morning whether to bring him along on the weekend trip to WVA or to leave him in the care of our neighbor...or to stay home to nurse him. We reiterated our commitment not to go the veterinary route, though we reserved that final decision for the morning, too. It was sort of hard.

["If this is going to be how it is..." I said (implying that pet keeping might not be for us).

"Why can't you just let me be sad about our pet dying?" She said.]

To our relief, we were greeted this morning by a perky bunny with an appetite! After getting fresh pellets in his feeder, he was found nibbling a few. We've still got our fingers crossed, but we think he's going to be o.k. We've left instructions for our neighbor on how to be very, very nice to the fellow."

[switch to Jason's voice]

Janelle forgot to mention that when I checked the chickens and shut their doors last evening, one of the Wyandottes was dead on the floor of her coop. Not wanting to draw chicken-eating creatures, I left the carcass safe in the coop overnight, then disposed of it this morning. This was not a chicken in which I had placed any hope, but a mysterious chicken death is never welcome. I'm guessing it was some kind of heart failure, since she seemed otherwise overall totally healthy, and had a mouthful of food (she was found by the feeder). I think choking is extremely much less likely an explanation.

The broody hens, on the other hand, I had invested some hope into. 24 units' worth of hope, to be exact. With this morning's events being what they are, I told Janelle I've decided to give up for the morning. I'll take heart again in the afternoon (Picture a wry smirk on my face and a twinkle in my eye).