The Perils of Life


Death.

A topic that is never easy.

This past spring I had added a few new team members in the form of chickens to my team. Growing up, my parents had chickens and I was always taken with how busy they kept and just how cute they were. There was also the added bonus that they paid for their rent in eggs. Naturally my mother always had a surplus because she kept way more chickens than she needed, but the company was so pleasant.

This year was the first time I was able to raise chickens of my own. I believe in the ideals of Kaizen, continious small changes as opposed to a singular massive change. I had purchased a total of eight chicks, in which four turned out to be roosters but I did not love them any less. Every morning when the chickens were just fluff balls I would remove their cover of their indoor container to refresh their water. Within five seconds of removal, a winged fluff ball would appear on the corner of the container to gaze upon an unknown world. I would pick this tiny chick up, hold it in my hands and whisper soft chirps into its ears. I would set it down and work my way down the line of birds, repeating the same affection. Eventually, I would take the future rooster (who would jump onto the ledge) and place him on my shoulder, like a pirate, and have him join me while I walked downstairs to refill the water.