Remembering DeeDee

A very fine rooster he was.

My DeeDee is gone. This morning I called my husband for a semi-regular update on how things were going at home in Durango, Colorado. He let me run on about the mundane details of staying with my Mom, plans for coming home and what I'd be doing that day and when I finally eased up to take a breath, he stated softly, "I have some bad news."

"DeeDee is dead," he quietly said. "Another bobcat came. DeeDee died defending his hens. His fight gave them time to scatter. La Pau wouldn't stop carrying on..."

How can I explain my sadness at losing a chicken? I've talked about DeeDee with all my friends; how he responded to us humans and to me when I'd ask him if he wanted a tortilla; his trip to the fair and the comments he received: "He's big!" What a pretty rooster" "Did you know he's blind in one eye?" I think I've bored more than one or two friends with stories of our chickens; in particular, DeeDee's birth story of when my husband Victor, saved him by helping him peel away his shell when he struggled to come out of the very last egg to hatch; and how he taped his tiny feet with blue painter's tape to straighten them, fit him into a little sling so he could eat, and then...finally putting him into the bin with all the other chicks.

We watched over him to be sure he was ok...he tipped to one side and would trip precariously around the tub bumping into the others, falling, scrambling up with a flutter and doing it over and over again. We identified him as "the drunk driver" because of his stumbling around but he grew up, developed beautifully and ultimately became one of the group we called "the survivors." This would have been his 4th year as a free range and blissfully happy rooster.

Dare I go on about this fowl friend? I do, because even now I am overwhelmed with sadness. There is something about a creature so mundane...so unimportant...so absolutely replaceable, that made this particular creature irreplaceable. I wish I could explain what he did for me during a very difficult time. It was this rooster that I would share my spare moments with...Victor and I would stop all our busyness and just observe chicken behavior... he was kind to the hens and he was a good lookout, he shared what food he found with them, calling them over... he made us laugh and provided priceless entertainment... I just loved this silly, beautiful rooster more than a person should. Victor told me over and over..."he's a chicken," "you don't make pets of an animal that we're going to eat," and finally, "I guess we're going to have an old folks home for chickens here."

I never could have eaten DeeDee and Victor was right, we would have an old chicken farm if not for the copious amounts of snow that bring predators to our doorstep looking for a meal and prey on defenseless chickens. The bobcat is dead now - he was skinny and probably very hungry... this is when the bobcats have come in the past...losing chickens is not unusual, but this time and this chicken... it's different and sad.

La Pau, one of his hens is the last of the original survivors... she had been the best layer even now in the cold, frigid winter...now, we don't know. La Pau and DeeDee hatched and grew up together... she saw his blue taped feet, she followed him everywhere. How will this little hen carry on... they really were attached to each other.

Victor says we can get a new batch of hens and a rooster come spring...but you know, it's not the same...ever. You grow attached to something and that's it. You can't explain it...you just feel it and your heart breaks when it ends. Here where we live, we aren't allowed indoor pets - no cats, no dogs... but the chickens outside are ok... and they became more important to me than I would have believed... especially my DeeDee.