All posts for the month May, 2016

Squishina, the miracle chicken

Published May 26, 2016 by 51percentawesome

The last time I saw Squish, Goldie, B1 and B2, I was laying on the brick wall sunbathing with my belly out. Murph rolled in the grass, Kai did some push-ups and I laughed. Squish started to preen, because she knew I was watching over her and her family, doing my best to keep them safe.

Unfortunately I couldn’t keep her safe for always, and 8 months after her sisters died, the fox got her too.

Better to die free than to live in a cage.

RIP Squish 23/11/2014-22/5/2016

The wise wolf said,
(as the ragged dog snarled)
it is, as it is.

Why wish for longer, when life is still finite?
The end will come, will come, will come.
Whether now, or later, you must let go eventually.

Why wish for safety and only joy?
The yin for the yang for the yin
And the breadth and the depth of what life has to offer, is more than can be contained in peace

So, yes, he right. Experience.

And for those you love, wish growth. May they know the pain of reaching beyond comfort, safety and peace.

And as you love them, wish only to walk beside them. To catch them as they fall. To see them fully as they are, with your whole heart. To share the struggles, and the triumphs. And when they leave, celebrate, how very much they experienced. How not a moment, a blade of grass or a breath was missed or wasted.

That is love, that is life.

In gratitude, I say goodbye with thanks for every moment, every morning that was too hard to get up- for chickens who were waiting for me, who trusted me, who walked beside me. For every day, choppy and drowning, that was punctuated by the constant of a chicken who wanted to be with me day and night, who felt better with me around, and who considered me family.

It’s a strange thing to love a chicken. And not something anyone could understand, if they haven’t taken the time to watch, to listen, to sit and experience the world through the eyes of a 25cm tall worm-lover. Squish was courageous. She was pig-headed. She was fiercely protective and devoted to her fam bam, adopted or not. She was determined, persistent and forgiving. Squish was the smartest, most intelligent and capable chicken I have ever known. The world is harsh, and life as a chicken is a dangerous business. Would that she could talk, I’m sure she could have explained to me how to love her better, though perhaps she would’ve just squawked that she wanted to be upstairs, in the quiet, with me.

Me too, Squish, me too. I raised you as a person because to me, you were 6 feet tall. I will miss you always, though I am relieved you are free, released, reunited.


With Squish, we got a second chance. Every day was precious, because we knew, had felt, had seen, how fragile life is.

It’s terrifying, trying to honour ourselves, and the ones we love, and our worldly obligations, without sacrifice or ignorance.

Squish, Aurora, Phoenix and Constance- they gave me a reason to get out of bed in the morning. To love them, care for them, share the joy of sunshine and grass with them. They gave me a reason to come home, to put them to bed. Their mornings and evenings regulated my life, my days. Being in service to them, being of service, brought me immeasurable joy. Without them this morning, this evening, Who am I now? What do I do?

Someone new I guess, something different.

Moving forward, I pray for their safe passage. I pray in gratitude for their release. (It’s funny people are relieved at the elderly’s release from physical pain but not always for the death of us all, with spiritual release).

More so, I pray for forgiveness. From the heavens, for my shortcomings. For when I loved at 70%, not 110%. When I held back, when I put off outside time for tomorrow, when I was harsh or selfish or rough with those I have loved. I will need to forgive myself my human limitations, I will need to continually accept that I cannot and will not ever be perfect in an ultimate sense, and that each day as I do my best, that whatever happens is perfect, as is. I may not believe it has happened for a reason, I may look to find divine purpose or utility but more than anything, I will hold the unfolding in my heart as precious,

as it is, as it was, as it will be.


Life is hard. Even more so for a chicken. Since Squish had her head bitten off, I am overwhelmed at once by the feeling of wanting to give her more- more comfort, more joy, more peace of mind. Give her a safe space where she can preen and nap, one eye at a time. I guess what strikes me is the realisation that nothing is perfect, that this, right here, this house with a jrinchy landlord and fox that stalked her for 8 months, these two unruly fighting adopted teenage boys- this is her life. And while I wanted to give her more, that’s not how life is. We make the best of what we have, steal moments when we can, and hope it is enough.

it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking, I wanted her to have felt happy, secure, joyful, at peace, full of love and food and nothing more.

Life isn’t about nirvana, and love isn’t about perfection.

What matters is that squish lived fully, that she experienced everything life has to offer a miracle chicken- sun, worms, dust baths, conflict, disappointment, change.

It’s equally as easy to fall in the trap of wanting more. More time. Just one more cuddle, one more day, one more minute.

The nature of mortality is that the end will come, that is certain.

I read today ‘it’s not about the about of years in the life, but the life in the years.’

Squish lived a lot of life in her years.

While Murphy won’t miss you pecking his head, I sure will miss hearing you, holding your warm body, scratching your belly, bringing you scraps, watching you express yourself and enjoy the sun, enjoy the dust. Thank you for opening up kai’s heart with your chicken-y wonder.

We’ll miss watching you at sunset, the afternoon walk, and listening to you chatter at bedtime.

Forever sunflower seeds, and endless soldier fly larvae.