Because Owen Is Still Traveling Incognito

These chickens probably look about the same to you. But for me, they are my own dear chickens and I can easily tell the difference and I named them Lucille and Helen after my childhood best friend and her twin sister. That is Lucille on the left and Helen on the right. Naming chickens is something I've come to love. Some names seem to suit certain chickens best and some names are just good chicken names. You wouldn't probably name a chicken Tiffany. I don't know why. The old names are the best for chickens, I think. Sue, and Betty, Lucy and Penny. You know. Now my nephew named one of my chickens Sookie and my niece named one Shalayla and those names are not names I would have thought of, but I like them a lot.

I had had my suspicions from the beginning that Helen might be a boy. In fact, I named him Helen because my childhood friend, Helen, was, well, rather butchy. I still think Helen might be a man.
And then this morning, Lucille crowed, which means Lucille is not a girl at all, but sadly, a boy. I say sadly, not because I do not like roosters or men, but because I already have two very definite roosters in the coop and three will not do. Neither will four and I mention this because I think Helen will begin to crow any day now.

What do you do when your beloved chickens turn into roosters? I would just keep them all as beautiful pets but Mr. Moon is not sentimental like I am. He's not thrilled that I take them grapes and melon every day as it is. When I told him that Lucille had crowed this morning he laughed and said, "Hmmm. Chicken and dumplings."

How, I ask you, can you EAT an animal whom you have named after your childhood best friend? I'm pretty sure you can't. Well, I'm pretty sure I can't.

Kathleen just went through this with her chickens and she found her two extra roosters a home with a couple who were thrilled to get them for breeding purposes. This is excellent and she is happy for them and now her hens have begun to lay since some of the testosterone has been eliminated from the coop but it still broke her heart to see her little boys taken away.

I understand.

Well. Just another example of not being able to control everything and indeed, not much of anything. And yet, one does like to think one can.

I am trying to remember that I cannot and frankly, I'm not even very good at controlling the things I alone should be able to control and so really, what right do I have trying to control anything else? Not much is the answer to that.

And so with this spirit, I am going into the future and specifically, Lily's birth, trying to remember that, trying to remember that I am Lily's mother, not Owen's mother. I am not her doctor nor her midwife. I am there for whatever she wants but I am not there to tell anyone what to do or how to do it.

There is some comfort in this. Actually, there is great comfort in this.
And I wouldn't want to take any of Lily's control away from her even if that were possible.
So there. And I think things are being handled splendidly anyway. Lily keeps knocking me out with her wisdom, her knowledge, her strength and her acceptance of reality and her determination, too.

Things may not always turn out as we planned them in our own perfect little minds, but that's life. You may not get eggs, but you may get chicken and dumplings. Or, as Billy mentioned last night, fresh-fried chicken.

I would wish that Lucille was a hen and not a rooster and Helen too.
Too bad, so sad, tough titties said the kitty and let us proceed with the knowledge that we do what we can, we need to butt the hell out when we should, and that you can name a bird Suzie or Lucille but it doesn't make them hens.



And that's all the wisdom I have to offer today.
Aren't you glad?