I love living in the country. When I was a teenager, my parents bought a house in upstate New York. It was a foolish and great idea at the same time: foolish because we (their four children) were too old to be forced to travel there each weekend; great because the summers could be spent there in idyllic surroundings that were perfect to nurture the heavy heart resulting from winters in Brooklyn!
My time there was wonderful. I can still smell the clean air that filled my lungs as I made my way along Main Street. Perhaps that is why I chose to settle in a rural area in my homeland years ago when my husband and I moved here. Every year that passes brings more city folk to our neighborhood. I lament that we have had to add fences and walls to our property to discourage trespassing but that is what it has come to.
Yesterday on my way to town, I passed a dead chicken on the road. I was saddened to see that. From the way she was lying, it was unclear if a vehicle (driving too fast) or an animal got her. There were feathers all about. Although she was not my chicken, I still feel protective about them and don’t mind seeing them wandering our property in search of food. One of our recent neighbors feeds them on the road and I suspect that is why this particular one might have ventured into territories that were dangerous, in her case, deadly. But that is the cycle of life. I am glad to know that our pet, Lila, had nothing to do with this sad event.