Sybill's been slow and not very lively the past few days, standing around with her feathers fluffed up, not moving much or very fast. She didn't even peck at the camera when I got it close to her.
It sounds silly, and three or four months ago I would've thought I had gone insane if I said I'm feeling sad for her, but it's true. Sure, she used to bully and bother and challenge me and I didn't like to go near her for fear of getting pecked. But eventually I stood up to her and showed her who's boss and now she doesn't bother me at all. Heck, I've grown to like the scraggly old vulture.
And now she's slow and tired and not very lively and I'm starting to feel bad for her. I think of all the chickens I've had the most interesting relationship with her. I loved her as a chick, a little fuzz-ball with a bare neck and silly little cap of fluff, but somewhere along the way she grew up and decided to become a bullying asshole of a chicken. She even managed to reach second-place in the flock after Ginny died, and then she started pecking me, too, looking up at me and screeing her harsh little scree "Qyrkk yrk rirkk!" if I got too close to her. She even drew blood a couple of times. Eventually I found a way to tell her, in terms she'd understand, that I was higher-ranking than her and not afraid. A bop on the head every time she threatened me, just like other chickens do, stern enough to feel like a peck from another, dominant bird but softer than the pecks she and most other chickens dished out to subordinate chooks, because, despite her goal of hurting me as much as possible until I ran away, I didn't want to hurt her. Eventually she accepted that I was higher-ranking and stopped bothering me, and in fact we're on pretty good terms now, I think. At least I feel like it. I like her. And it's sad to see her growing old and tired.
I hope she feels better soon. I think the fluctuating temperatures are making her toes hurt.
No comments:
Post a Comment