This is Big Bird. She is a 3 week old white (I think) Silkie pullet(I think) from mypetchicken.com.
She is, simply, The Most Beautiful Chicken in the World. At least, to me.
I never knew my heart could split wide open and a tiny yellow ball of fluff could bring me to tears. But she does. I am sentimental, silly, and apparently, a born-again Chicken Girl. Right now, she is nuzzling in my hair on my shoulder, making soft, content peeps. I don't care if she poops in my hair. She is a tiny miracle, and I love her with my whole weary, cynical soul. I never would think I would feel this way about a chicken. But she is special.
She almost died. She was very sick; I didn't think she was going to make it. But I babied her, hoped and wished, fed her sugar water, and did everything I possibly could. Got lots of advice from BYC and MPC. And she lived. And she loves me. I can tell.
My husband--who has had a pathologic bird phobia for about 50-some-odd years--holds this tiny bird in wonder. Kisses her, nuzzles her neck, and admits to me that yes, chickens actually smell good (in a non-food-type way). I have not seen him eat chicken in the past 3 weeks.
I love this tiny creature. I love all my chickens, but I love Big Bird the best. I was feeling ugly and judgey and hateful earlier. I was mad at the world and especially my husband. Now after snuggling my baby chick, I feel at peace, like I do after yoga, with a tear in my eye for the simple beauty of a tiny critter who only knows love, and wants to sleep in my hair.
It is a strange and wonderful thing, this newfangled chicken love that I have.
XO,
Cindi
She is, simply, The Most Beautiful Chicken in the World. At least, to me.
I never knew my heart could split wide open and a tiny yellow ball of fluff could bring me to tears. But she does. I am sentimental, silly, and apparently, a born-again Chicken Girl. Right now, she is nuzzling in my hair on my shoulder, making soft, content peeps. I don't care if she poops in my hair. She is a tiny miracle, and I love her with my whole weary, cynical soul. I never would think I would feel this way about a chicken. But she is special.
She almost died. She was very sick; I didn't think she was going to make it. But I babied her, hoped and wished, fed her sugar water, and did everything I possibly could. Got lots of advice from BYC and MPC. And she lived. And she loves me. I can tell.
My husband--who has had a pathologic bird phobia for about 50-some-odd years--holds this tiny bird in wonder. Kisses her, nuzzles her neck, and admits to me that yes, chickens actually smell good (in a non-food-type way). I have not seen him eat chicken in the past 3 weeks.
I love this tiny creature. I love all my chickens, but I love Big Bird the best. I was feeling ugly and judgey and hateful earlier. I was mad at the world and especially my husband. Now after snuggling my baby chick, I feel at peace, like I do after yoga, with a tear in my eye for the simple beauty of a tiny critter who only knows love, and wants to sleep in my hair.
It is a strange and wonderful thing, this newfangled chicken love that I have.
XO,
Cindi
Wow that silkie is so cute!
