Ode to my Hen

Ode to my Hen

May you rest in peace my dearest hen.  I never gave you a name, but you were my favorite.  You reminded me of my mother because you were always so interested in what I was doing in my garden.  Whether I was outside walking around with a cup of coffee in my hand, or crouched down digging in the dirt, you would always come and check me out and talk to me.  I should have named you Curiosity.  You had such a calm disposition and an intelligence about you that made you seem almost human to me.  Until you, I really didn’t have any excessive fondness for any of my hens.  You showed me that it was actually possible to feel deep affection for a chicken.  You were a sweetie, and I will miss you.

I don’t know why my New Hampshire died.  She was just fine the day before and when I found her she had just keeled over and still had straw in her mouth.  Maybe it was a heart attack.  In any case, sometimes there are no clues.  Here is a poem I found by a man named  Jack Prelutsky that is a sweet chicken poem.  One of these days I will try to write one myself.

Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens

Last night I dreamed of chickens,
There were chickens everywhere,
they were standing on my stomach,
they were nesting in my hair,
they were pecking at my pillow,
they were hopping on my head,
they were ruffling up their feathers
as they raced about my bed.

They were on the chairs and tables,
they were on the chandeliers,
they were roosting in the corners,
they were clucking in my ears,
there were chickens, chickens, chickens
for as far as I could see…
when I woke today, I noticed
there were eggs on top of me.

Jack Prelutsky, 1940

Share Button

Leave a Reply

You can use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>