Hello. This post is about Death & Birds.
I have a friend, named Gloria, who is a complex being. She had a difficult start in life, and although her circumstances have since changed, she still carries the scars of her earliest days. She is stubborn, mischievous, curious. Like me, she is flustered by change and, like me, she can be unnervingly mercurial. Occasionally, she will attack another chicken, seemingly out of nowhere; though I’m sure she has her own, private, reasons. She is beautiful, tenacious, extremely vocal, and she is surprisingly forgiving. I once caught her yanking a large elastic band out of the earth. She, no doubt thinking it was a long, stretchy worm, was thrilled and began bashing it repeatedly against the ground in violent delight, while I threw myself towards her, terrified she’d swallow it—which is exactly what she did when she saw me lunging for her juicy worm. Thankfully, I was able to grab both her and the very end of the elastic band right as it was disappearing down her throat. As far as she was concerned, I had coveted her prized worm and had had the gall to snatch it right out of her mouth. All this, and she forgave me within the space of a few minutes. Gloria is a far more enlightened being than I, and is way too busy to hold a grudge. She makes no effort to be seen as good by those around her, as she is preoccupied only by being herself. Her complex, sweet, violent, affectionate, determined, and perfect self. She is a teacher, a reflection of life’s inherent wholeness, and I, her smitten student, mindlessly singing Vivaldi to her, changing the words instead to, “Gloria in Egg-shell-sis Deo”— all this and she not only tolerates me but runs, joyfully, wings flapping, towards me. I am duly humbled. To elicit genuine, joyful enthusiasm in another simply by being, is a revelatory experience. It casts light on the sacred nature of being seen and being valued, purely for existing. And if there comes a time in life when we’ve nothing left to offer but our existence, may we all be run towards with the fervour of a rescue chicken.