Learning from Teenage Chickens

Right now, my dining room is full of chickens. OK, not really full, but it feels that way. There’s a box in my dining room with three chickens who hatched about three weeks ago. They look like the chicken version of teenagers — half kid, half adult; half down, half feathers; gangly, clumsy and with a helfty does of attitude. I’m learning from these chicks. They follow me around, which helps me remember all the biology and psychology tidbits I learned about imprinting — and staying focused on the vision of where and what I want to be. My son instructs me to pick them up gently, yet surely, and hold their feathers, which reminds me (as do the garden slugs) to slow the heck down (in a self-confident way). They peck ALL the time at their box, their bowl, the floor, which reminds me to be consistently persistent (especially when it comes to cornmeal). I’m too tired to think about what the chicks might be teaching me about becoming a vegetarian again…on seond thought, they’re not teaching me anything about that. I’ll take on that learning on my own. (Can I imagine eating any leg, thigh, breast or “nugget” again? Sheesh…)