Marriage Moats-Bleeding Hearts Around Here
Published: Thu, 05/02/13
| Marriage Moats | Caring for Marriage | ||||
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 For twenty years I was peeved when the kids didn't finish their breakfast cereal or toast. But lately I have been thrilled. It meant I could sneak crusts and soggy cornflakes to the chickens, which brought them scrambling to my feet like teenagers to the Beatles. But this morning when I went out with a meager offering of milk and apple cores I could only find one chicken. Beatrice was wandering alone outside the coop. How could this be? I clapped and called all over the yard, hoping they would come cheeping out from under a bush. But their usual sunny spots were empty. I went back to put Beatrice in the coop and noticed feathers scattered around. I ran upstairs to get the twins who helped search, and we watched Beatrice hop out the corner of the screen door. That was the escape route. John had warned us that a screen is not as secure as chicken wire, but I had not listened. It never really occurred to me that there were hungry carnivores lurking in my neighborhood. After all they take pains not to be seen. But a raccoon or a fox had a raid last night and I shudder to think of it. We cried. Beatrice is lonely. There are a variety of lessons I could extract from the loss. The twins and I had a boatload of fun with those ten little birds, and even an abrupt ending to the afternoons of a chicken on our shoulder or eating corn from our hands does not obliterate the memory. I had just assumed there would be more sunny days to play. There are warnings to he heeded about protection, and keeping vulnerable chickens secure. But the surprise for me in the teary rush before school was the hugs. We were sad together. It felt much better than crying alone. I watch Beatrice and wonder what the ordeal was like for her. She probably saw the scuffle, and was able to fly to a higher perch. But now she has no one to snuggle with. I do. Marriage affords no electric fence against loss. Unemployment, health problems, and sharp toothed dangers all lurk in the shadows. Some strike when we let down our guard. Yet I am thankful for the mercy of roosting with the one who shares the grief.
Photo by Joy Feerrar
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