Marty the Chicken

She came in a small box and according to the description she was Polish and sported a black and white Afro. Marty, not much larger than a finger, was (and still is) a chicken!

We now have 18 chickens at Brant Lake and the children love them. Especially, Marty.

A generic word on the Brant Lake chickens. Marty’s generation came in a box that was sent by mail. Although Marty is still too young to lay an egg, older chickens have been very busy. Most of the eggs are brown but there are several green eggs. Of course I am referring to the color of the shell. Inside, each egg possessed the normal yellow yoke and white circumference.

The only chickens that did not lay eggs were the two that were eaten by the fox, a sad event in the history of our chicken coop. One other chicken was badly injured but granddaughter Sasha and her father, a noted doctor, researched chicken surgery on the Internet and performed an expert operation, saving the chicken and, perhaps, inspiring Sasha and her father to become chicken doctors, an exciting decision at this time of the pandemic. Incidentally (the following has no connection to my story), did you know that chickens have four lungs? That fact may give you extra breath in these difficult times.

But back to Marty, the favorite chicken. Why was Marty a favorite? Perhaps because Marty has that strange profusion of feathers on the top of her head, feathers that clump together and stand straight up.

However, I was enamored by Marty for a different reason. I admired not her looks but rather Marty’s approach to life. All of the chickens live in a homemade chicken coop with sufficient compartments to roost and to dine on our dinner leftovers. Then, after eating their full, they leave the coop and venture into the farm yard.

Except for Marty. This cute little chicken would venture to the door, stick her head into the great outdoors then quickly retreat back inside the coop. After several days she stuck her neck out but it would be many days before she could thrust her entire body out of the coop and join the other chickens. Yes, Marty took life gradually. An inch by an inch at a time. I think she believed there is no reason to move forward if you do not know what lies ahead!

In these disturbing times it is helpful for all of us to have patience and to move forward slowly. Stay in your apartment house or chicken coop until it is safe to proceed into the world that, someday, well beckon to you.

And writing about chickens I wish to warn you: Please do not eat chickens for dinner.

Think of Marty!


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