ODE TO A CHOOK

Karen talked me into the idea of adopting some battery hens which, through their inability to "produce" sufficient quantities of eggs for our ravenous species, were destined to be exterminated by the thousand as they were deemed not to be worthy of life...
Such is the nature of our society's cold, denialist underbelly. We rescued four of them and there were many other compassionate souls who did the same thing. God bless them all.
This isn't a rant, however, about our widespread and disturbing lack of humanity, it's about how I, once skeptical of the notion of 4 chooks scrabbling around our backyard and wreaking chaos among the plants and plopping a neverending supply of poultry poo about the place - it's actually about how captivated I became as I met each of our girls and got to know their little wiles and foibles. Enter, Harriet, Hilda, Hester and Hermione...
Their endearing personalities soon shone through after they had settled into the refurbished chook shed, were ensured that they were free from draughts and predators (7 bewildered cats notwithstanding) and when they realised they actually had freedom - freedom to roam the garden, walk where they pleased, hurdling little fences, flapping their small wings as they endeavoured to propel themselves forward on their pumping, running legs for the breakfast apple shreds or lettuce leaves, they just became a part of our world and our family.
None more so than little Hermione, who was the slightest of the four but by far the most approachable and we were getting to a stage where the original innate cowering squat that hens adopt when they are startled or when you tower over them, Hermione was starting to enjoy a little cuddle and fuss whenever I would let them out in the morning prior to them haring after me as the breakfast treat giant. I would pick her up and give her a kiss, tickle her chest and stroke her neck - she enjoyed the attention.
In short, I was really bonding with these delightful, amusing and affectionate little beings.
It was to my stark horror, however, that I received a distressed call from Karen today informing me of little Hermione's demise in an elevated fish pond in the form of an old bath. The poor girl somehow hopped up there, fell in and simply could not get out.
Karen was too late to save her and I have just completed the distressing task of laying our beautiful little girl to rest in one of her favourite scratching spots in the garden.
A hydrangea has been planted over her remains as a memorial tribute - life from life...
The other chooks paid their respects to their sister and I could not hold back the flood of tears as I laid her shimmering copper body to rest as reverently as I could.
It may sound so very silly for a grown man to be this distraught over a damn chicken - I mean we slaughter millions of them every day for God's sake... and that's just the thing - we don't do that for God's sake - we do it for our sake and if we only took one moment to get to know the creatures we share this planet with from a bond of love and companionship rather than as mere commodities - product, I believe the planet and the human race would be the richer for it.
I am leaking tears for this wonderful, harmless, affectionate creature who deserved a life of freedom, companionship, compassion and love and we certainly gave her that in bundles in the latter stage of her life.
Rest peacefully, little hen, we loved you dearly and are forever grateful for the simple joy you brought to our lives.
With love...
US