Some of you have met and enjoyed him, our Golden Polish rooster. On April 5 2019,  we had to say good bye.

I wrote up this story for the BUZZ newsletter, but it was a little too long, so here it is instead:

Hairdo’s Last Spring

Today, on April 5, our beautiful “Hairdo”, a Golden Polish rooster, moved on to another realm. Those who have seen him most likely were delighted by him. His was one of the very gentle peaceful passings of any chicken here.

In his seventh winter, maybe around December/January, he got an upper respiratory infection. It looked pretty bad, got treated and he responded promptly, but never went back to normal. In the days before today he started slowing down much more, but still stayed with the flock each day, only he didn’t get up from his resting place under the quince tree to meet me any more. In older chickens, some of the cancer causing viruses have had enough time to do their thing, so it was not really the infection that ended it, but the underlying illness. He had gotten very thin. He still went out to peck around with some hens in the morning the day before he died, still went out to the field one more time, drinking from the leaky faucet, but in the afternoon, he was standing in the coop all by himself, having returned to a safe place, wings drooping, tired. I put him into one of the coops, so no one would bother him. Offered him a special treat, soft soaked bread, which he still went for. In the evening, I sat with him on my lap for a while, talking to him, telling him about his life, and his daughters and sons, us surrounded by the flock. Mama Fayoumi, one of his original flock mates (he was one of the first) joined us and pecked a speck of dirt off his neck feathers. He was calm, eyes open. He wasn’t afraid to be picked up and be on my lap. Too many times in years past he had sat like that, his bumble foot soaking in some fish medication, and it worked, he never had to have that surgery and his foot pads looked good. He was a gentle one, and, not unusual for Polish chickens with all those feathers on their head, at the bottom of the pecking order amongst the roosters.

But he always managed to be part of the flock, and always managed to convince at least one of the hens to be his buddy. He knew how to deal with that little garden gate from the beginning, and they went out over it together. He was really a delight to see with his “hairdo”, which became his name, after being originally called Sprite.

The evening before he died, the still was going for that little piece of soft soaked bread I brought him, he still pecked at some grains, the program of eating still running, and I always imagine it gives them some satisfaction. Still, it is a chicken program. I knew from feeling his crop that is body had started the shutting down process. In the end, I put him were he had spent meany nights, a safe spot, with fresh bedding. Later he even tried to pick some more grains, but he was not really eating any more.

Eventually he found a position where he sat and stayed. He heard his last good night calling that day.

There was no sense of suffering, just serene surrender and peace.

The next moring, he was peaceful, breathing deeply.

It is interesting to see how at some point the shift happens from outer directed attention to inner. A withdrawing of the attention from any outer and simply being with the dying, the resolution process, the gentle and gradual leaving of the life force. Sometimes there are little shivers when the energy releases. At this point it would not even matter if a predator got him. For me, I made the decision, that unless I think a chicken is really suffering in the process, ie in pain, I will not end their life violently (by cervical dislocation).

I let them be, keep them safe and in familiar surroundings they are used to and don’t cause them fear and allow the process to take place, as peacefully as possible. We can only wish the same will be granted to all humans.

My job was to keep him non-bothered by the other roosters, two of which I kept separately on his last day, and allow him to keep his routine the same, which at the end meant to put him in a familiar safe place, surrounded by all the sounds he so knew. This morning he sat there beautifully centered, eyes closed , breathing slowly and deeply, the tip of his beak resting in the center in front of him. Yes, I do the Clear Light for them, the 4 lines. I have had some amazing experiences with chickens moving on. During the Distance Energy Healing, I had a vision of him, all light, the ethereal being, his blueprint.

And so they move on, having delighted us in many ways.

His body will rest near were he met me so often in the early evenings in the garden, in hope for some special treats, which he always got. An Indian peach grown from seed will be planted nearly, and tulips.

Animals are sentient and their consciousness is animal consciousness, not human. The work with dying chickens for me has been interesting and necessary, as I carry a heavy load from what happened to my mother’s family during World War II and my mother’s “stuff” around it and a few other traumas. On one hand, it has been a journey through sentimentality and attachment with the resulting suffering at loss and, on the other hand, presence and care and the learning art of more gracefully letting go, accepting the change, being reminded again and again how precious life is, how delightful these living creatures are. There is an art in deep feeling and yes allowing to let go, not holding on. In the end, what helps the human in us is to have done the best we can. No regrets. He had a beautiful, rooster-worthy life, a life he shared with his flock and me, and, if you were lucky, you too.

Hairdo, you were not the extra rooster but a delight for everyone you met.