“Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility.”
— Sigmund Freud.
Sometimes, I know from my reading, it happens in history that feckless leaders follow rather than lead, and foolish or hateful people lead rather than follow. When that happens, the world turns upside down for awhile, and good people struggle to find their place. In history, at least, the good guys usually win. History tells us that good most often triumphs over bad, generosity is more powerful than hatred.
And there are always symbols of faith and good. Mine is a red hen. She unwittingly and unconsciously became such a symbol when I wrote her struggle for acceptance the other day.
History also teaches us that ignorance and fear are lethal weapons, they kill more people than any terrorist could imagine.
Our new chicken, a Rhode Island Red from Ed and Carol Gulley’s Bejosh Farm is quite alone for now, ostracized by the other three hens. She is a gentle creature, even for a chicken, she spends the day alone, hiding in the bushes near the barn, coming out to peck at the birdseed or eat the fine and expensive foods Maria brings out to her in little plastic containers. No animal is ever truly alone on Maria’s farm.
At night, she waits until the other chickens are up on the top of the roost before she hops up, and she waits until they are all asleep until she hops up with them.
Still, I wince a bit when I see her hiding in the bushes, alone, perhaps by choice. She is a peaceable chicken, not afraid of people, not afraid of dogs.
If she comes near the other hens or their feed, they attack her and drive her off. This is not a political gesture for chickens, it is what they do to newcomers. They are all natural born Trump’s, all three of them, they are the most vulnerable prey animals, they do not have the wits or the tools to defend themselves. And they live in fear of so many predators. For them, it is not terrorism, that is life.
I guess I do expect more from a political leader than a hen, but there is a message in there, people can sort it out for themselves.
Like Donald Trump, chickens are savvy about survival, ignorant about the world. Chickens can be hateful and destructive, but like him, you never get the sense they know what they are doing. In our world, we are asked to line up with the “left” or the “right” so that we can be chickens ourselves, and easily labeled and dismissed.
But sometimes the labels don’t work and we have to line up with the people who just want to be human.
Eventually, and most often, the other hens will come to accept the red one. They do not have our attention span for hating.
Our three hens are are fancy Brahmas, the red is a raggedy Rhode Island Red, a farm chicken. She is very much the other, the outsider. The three hens are not snobs, they are just afraid of her. She is strange, different, she doesn’t look like them or act like them. And to chickens, as to humans, strange is dangerous.
How curious that a hen can unconsciously act out the drama of the refugee, an old and familiar story in America, close to almost every one of us at one point or another. It is the story of who we are and who we wish to be. An important story. Animals mirror us, they reflect us and teach us. I see the red hen has a message. She is calling to me to get it out.
I look at this child, I wonder how long he will have to live in that garbage and sewage-filled camp before he and his family finds a roost that is safe and free.
The red hen has suddenly become a symbol of many things for me, a reminder to me of the importance both of taking responsibility for my freedom and also of what it means to be a human being.
