On being bold

Yesterday, we visited Seth at his work for lunch. On our way home, we stopped by the Creation Museum for a quick tour. 

There are quite a few animatronic dinosaurs and humans scattered throughout the museum and the boys were a bit confused over whether they were real. Kieran made sure to say hi to all of them as we walked by. 

In one area, there's a scene of Noah overseeing the building of the Ark. He calls out to a construction worker and the construction worker responds with a snide comment about Noah and ends with calling him a "religious fanatic." Kieran was watching the figure intently and at the end, he leaned on the railing and vehemently said to the figure, "No. he. isn't!" He walked a few steps and then said, "No, he isn't!" I was surprised by the forcefulness of my usually mild-mannered son.

Although I don't think Kieran understands what a "religious fanatic" is, he somehow knew that this figure was making fun of another and that he needed to stand up for him and say something to the guy (however animatronic he was).

I'm inspired by his boldness in defending a fellow image-bearer. And I hope that I can be as bold as he is someday.

The Suicidal Chicken

While we were away during Christmas, we lost one of our chickens in an unfortunate accident. She was one of three Easter eggers (the ones that lay the greenish-colored eggs). It was a good opportunity to talk about the concept of subtraction with the boys -- ten chickens take away one leaves nine chickens. And sure enough, the boys counted nine chickens when we got home. They were, perhaps understandably, sad about the loss. 

It seems there was another who was also sad about the loss of her sister. This is one of the other Easter eggers. They are smaller than the other chickens and, this one in particular, seems to be on the low end of the pecking order (and the "pecking order" is very much a thing, amazingly enough). She keeps to herself in the nesting box area, gets hen-pecked by some of the larger chooks when they're in the yard, and keeps her distance when I bring food treats out to them in the evenings. Apparently, she knows her place (either that, or she's the smart one sleeping in the area with the heat lamp). But she and the one who went to the Great Coop in the Sky palled around together quite a bit. 

So, perhaps understandably, she was sad after the tragic passing of her friend. So much so that she began jumping over the five-foot fence we have around the enclosure and truly free-ranging in the yard and woods. We had clipped their wings last year but after they molted during the winter, their feathers grew back and she was, once again, able to spread her wings and take flight (at least a few feet in the air). 

I warned her several times that if she didn't stay in the coop she could potentially become fox/dog/coyote/coon (take her pick) feed. But she didn't seem to care. She'd jump up on the rail, pick her way across the wood, look back at her compadres, jump down to the ground, and then strut along the fence, as if to say to the others, "Betcha can't do that, kin ya?" (she is a Holler chicken, after all). And, it's true -- because the other chickens are bigger and heavier than she is, they aren't able to jump as high as she can and are resigned to free-ranging safely in the large enclosure Seth built for them.

However, it's almost as if she were taking her life into her own hands (or wings) on purpose. Maybe she was so bereft after her sister's untimely demise that she wanted to join her in the Great Chicken Coop in the Sky.

Cael would weep and wail whenever she jumped out, "Mommy, the chicken's out again, do something, Mommy! She'll get eaten by a coyote!" Until I explained that if she could jump out by herself then she could jolly well jump back in by herself and we needn't go chasing after a suicidal chicken every time her jumping whim struck.

Chewing on some fresh straw. Cuz that's what farmers do.

I really have been expecting to one day find her cold, dead body lying in the woods during roll call in the evenings. "Serves her right," I'd say. (I may or may not have the gift of mercy.)

So, perhaps understandably, I was surprised last Thursday when we got home, checked on the girls, and found one of the black hens dead as a doornail on the floor underneath the nesting boxes. She would stay with the suicidal chicken during the nights, so perhaps the tension in the coop became too much for her. Maybe the stress of watching her sister daily take her life in her wings was too difficult. Maybe she, even moreso than the suicidal one, felt the loss of the other sister deeply but was hiding it well until it just became too much. 

As usual, I texted Seth, told him about the loss, asked him what to do, and then asked him when he'd be home to do it.

He didn't find any signs of obvious trauma on her and we didn't see any evidence that something had gotten into the coop (all feathers were intact, there were not signs of struggle), so we're not sure what happened. Seth's theory is that a spider bit her. Cael thinks it was a snake. Kieran suggested an auger got her (his latest obsession). And I googled "Sudden Chicken Death" . . . again. 

Sometimes, when we're outside in the evenings,
we let the chickens out in the yard for a bit
since we're around to keep the predators at bay.

I don't have an answer for why the black one died and the suicidal one is still alive. But then, sometimes in life, there are no answers. Only chickens.

The Kindness of a Doctor

The other day, I took the boys to see the doctor so that Cael could be brought up to date on his vaccinations before we register him for kindergarten next month (is that really possible?!). I waited until the morning of the appointment to tell the boys because I knew the thought of it would cause Kieran (not necessarily Cael) some consternation. He made sure that it wasn't he who would be on the receiving end of the treatments and was very sad (almost to the point of tears) that Cael would need to go through this trial. And he talked about it the rest of the day. 

When we went in to see the doctor, Kieran tried to get out of the exam room by excusing himself to the bathroom. When that didn't work (he couldn't spend too long in there), he tried talking to the doctor himself. He told him that Cael was there for shots and that there would be pain. I explained that he was concerned about Cael and that he wasn't thrilled with being there. 

Having treated Kieran since birth and being familiar with his extreme anxiety during office visits (even when they're not for him), Dr. D was very understanding. He said, "Of course you are. You are . . . a very understanding big brother." I don't know why he paused or what he was originally going to say, but I appreciated his willingness to extend comfort to Kieran. Then Kieran asked about his office, and Dr. D very kindly invited him to go see the plants in his office while Cael got his shots. I never would have expected that to be the outcome or a way for Kieran to avoid the situation, but I'm thankful for Dr. D's thoughtfulness in helping Kieran (and me) through the ordeal. 

Meanwhile, back in the exam room, Cael hopped up on the table, shuddered a bit during the shots, got some TMNT bandages, and then hopped back down without saying a word. He was thrilled, too, with the Spiderman and TMNT stickers the nurses gave him afterward. 

We celebrated afterward with ice cream. (Kieran got a peanut butter milkshake.) 

Kieran survived yet another doctor visit. . . . And so did Cael. To quote Pa Ingalls, "All's well that ends well." 

Haircutting Bib

Cutting Kieran's hair has always caused drama on his end. He doesn't like the sound of the buzzer, the feel of it on his head, the heat it makes when Seth doesn't use a guard. He also doesn't like having scissors near his hair. We've tried various things to help him through the procedure but drama continues to ensue. Seth has taken charge of the haircutting procedures for both boys (mainly because I can't cut hair -- at all) and I'm usually left with the clean up. 

A few weeks ago, after Seth cut Cael's hair, I decided there must be an easier way to keep the hair from getting on the boys' skin and everywhere in the bathroom and went online to see what I could find. I started looking for capes for kids and soon came across this amazing invention that I knew I simply had to have.

I ordered it and it arrived just in time for Kieran's next haircut. 

He wasn't overly thrilled with it but it did help to lesson one of the things he hates about haircuts--having the hair get all over his neck and shoulders.

And it did make clean up much easier. It was really easy to pour the hair into the trashcan and then take it outside to shake the rest of the hair off.

 This is his "I am NOT pleased about what just happened here" face.

Thankfully, he recovers quickly from the trauma and was back to his usual pleasant self in no time. And I was able to enjoy that pleasantness much more quickly because I didn't have any hair to clean up after the ordeal. That's a win all around.