Physically Isolated but Spiritually Connected
City Chicks

In the city where
tall buildings tower above
chicken coop with eggs.

Dear Mayfield,
During this long time of sheltering in place and limited movement, I don’t want you to think I have forgotten the country. Please meet Popcorn. She along with seven other hens — Red, Amelia Egghart, Vivian, Magnolia, Rosie, Princess Fluffybutt, and Pip have been in residence for a little over a year in the beautiful chicken coop on the north side of Nettelhorst School.  Nettelhorst is at the corner of Aldine and Broadway in my neighborhood. The coop reminds me of a high-end tiny house, all fenced in with a large screened “porch” and a spacious closed coop flanked by lots of yard on either side. I pause to talk with the “girls” almost every morning when I am out. During these long quiet weeks, they have been one of the main attractions in Lakewood East.  Those who

stop by the fence include parents and children in strollers, preschoolers exploring on their own, middle-sized kids missing friends and regular routines, runners, walkers, older ladies with dogs, visitors, and a smattering of other neighbors.

My poultry friends inspired my haiku poem beneath Popcorn’s picture. Haiku, a form of Japanese poetry with seventeen syllables in three lines, 5-7-5, a reference to nature and some sort of twist, literally means playful (hai) verse (ku). For many, haiku is a form of word play.  Part of my playful approach to these demanding days has been daily time with the chickens. It’s been a simple gift for me. I look at them often scurrying side by side and remember that there will be a time together after all this physical distancing. I ask them for advice about being all cooped up.  Watching them scratch at the ground, I wonder about what surface things I could scratch at more deeply.  And then there is the dinosaur link.  Modern day birds are our closest link to the long extinct dinosaurs, especially those that flew. And scientists tell us that of all the birds, chickens are genetically the nearest of dinosaur descendents.  They link us to ancient wisdom and ways. They remind us that nothing lasts forever and also of large losses in today’s rate of rapid extinction. My greatest gift from the city chicks on Aldine came with the Spirit early Pentecost morning.

As I walked by the coop Sunday morning, the parent whose turn it was to feed and tend them was there. I spoke to the chickens, and she turned to me with a simple question. “There was only one egg this morning.  Would you like it?  It was just laid and is still warm.” Without hesitation I said that I would.  She handed it to me wrapped in a plastic bag. It was warm to the touch. I carefully tucked it in my bag that usually is anchored on my shoulder for my 3-4 mile jaunt. However, most of my walk still lay ahead of me.  So I cradled my bag in my arms as I walked along considering the well-established symbolism of new life associated with an egg. That morning was midway between the two most violent nights of protest in Chicago following George Floyd’s death. The question of wresting new life from the destruction of world-wide pandemic and deep racial injustice is not a straightforward one. But on the wind-swept breath of the Spirit, we are nudged these days to open ourselves wide to how alone and with others we can bear and break open new life, even just one egg’s worth, to nourish needed possibilities.

I learned from Nettelhorst staff in an encounter outside the school that Popcorn and Red are the hens with the most attitude. More than once Popcorn has gone free range, and a neighbor has called to report spotting her across Broadway, a busy commercial street.  Popcorn, Red, and the others are part of the backbone of outdoor education at the school.  Children learn about the lives of hens, and about feeding, caring for, and cleaning up after their poultry friends.  In return, the chickens make classroom visits, not unlike the more common therapy dogs.  When the chickens were chicks and not old enough to be out in the coop, they were raised in the library. In honor of that piece of their history, I want to conclude with a reading of Book! Book! Book! by Deborah Bruss. Enjoy! Perhaps it was in the library, with all the books, that Popcorn first had free range dreams.
With prayers for peace and play, Martha  LINK