In the scheme of things, a chicken’s walk in the pasture is no big deal, and will not be reflected anywhere in the “news” that most people follow each day. It is not a big story, it is not a story at all. Except here, on my farm, in my life. I believe in small miracles, perhaps because big ones are hard to come bye, and the struggle of a chicken to survive a fox attack and return to the world resonates with my own life in a number of ways.

And others too. Fran benefited from love and kindness from all over the world. We thought it might be more humane to put her down, but then I was awash in poignant messages from farmers telling me how their chickens took months to survive dog, weasel, fox, raccoon and hawk attacks. Chickens are a good metaphor for people who feel powerless and anxious, as they are the bottom of the pole, so many things (including us) eat them and the very idea of going to bat for a chicken seems a bit ludicruous. But not according to the many messages that came pouring in through the ether. We liked the Gatorade solutions, and also carrot juice, and we gave her meal worms and a daily fresh egg and meal. Plus Corona Cream kept the bugs away and gave the very deep and ugly wounds time to heal. Fran is not out of the woods. Her left leg is badly damaged, and I’m not sure she can spread her wings. She can’t yet hop up on a roost and goes into a dog crate at night. But it was wonderful to see her marching around with the other chickens for a bit.

Good for me, too. I opened myself up to the love of a chicken, and to the healing and nourishing effects of saving one life. We do what we can do, and perhaps helping a chicken is a good place to start. I’m grateful for the experience. Maria has done an extraordinary job caring for this creature. And I never wiped a chicken’s messy butt before. It felt good here. The fox is not evil, he was just being a fox. It is just life, not drama. But I like the ending. More photos on my Facebook page.