We have five hens, they are getting old and have stopped laying eggs. We had six, but I had euthanised a sick one a few months ago. We did think about doing away with these too, because it makes no economical sense to keep hens that have stopped laying. We were running out of feed, and my wife suggested that when we do, that should be it for the chooks. We would not buy any more feed. I felt sorry for them. I began to have nightmares about killing these chooks! Do chooks know that this is the end? Do they wonder what I'm doing with their mate while they sit on their perch at night? I have done the deed often, sometimes for other people. I have enjoyed these hens though. I would go down the paddock and call out and they would come. They were not frightened of us when we went into the henhouse, they were more inquisitive. Feed does not cost that much, so we bought another bag of feed.We generally open the gate of their big run in the morning and they have a whole paddock to run around in to gather food. Then we shut them away again late in the afternoon. I suggested that we leave the gate open at all times, and that way they would gather food any time, and not eat as much bought feed. So we have been doing that.
Sad discovery..
Late yesterday afternoon I went down to the henhouse to throw some wheat to the hens. It is a treat for them. The man who sold us these hens told us "wheat was like giving lollies to children. Don't feed them too much!" I throw them some in the evening, before they "go to bed". Well I went down and they were in their run, but there were only four of them. I called and the fifth one didn't arrive. I found her dead in the hen house. She had not been looking as energetic as others for awhile. I picked her up and took her out, and today I buried her.
A part of life...
Any farmer will tell you that death is just a part of life. In talking with older people, they too will say the same thing. You read of people your age dying, you attend an increasing number of funerals and you know "it happens" and will one day happen to you. I have conducted enough funerals to be aware of the passing of time and of our eventual passing. So while I was sad at the hen's demise, I figured it is just the process of life and it is one less I will eventually have to dispose of. (My wife has argued that it is better for them to be euthanised rather than slowly grow old, be miserable and die. Hope she doesn't say that about me!)
So I dug a deepish hole in the garden and placed my hen in, then filled the hole up. She will decompose and just enrich the soil with her body.
As I gently put the first shovel of dirt on top of her (why do I do it gently? She is not going to feel it?) I thought, "that will be me one day!" I silently thanked her for her life and eggs. Then I wondered what could be said of me as they drop me in the ground?
That dumped feeling. Like "A hen that's stopped laying!"
In NZ we are now at Covid19 Alert Level 2. Most people (who have not lost their jobs) are back at work, children back at school, but there are social distancing requirements and other measures in place so that tracking can happen if there is an out break of Covid19. At a national level we have gone for quite a number of days with no new case. As a workplace chaplain to ambulance, fire and a brewery I have been prevented from visiting workplaces since the last week of March. The people in the national headquarters of each place made a ruling that only "essential workers" were to be on site, they did not want the possibility of visiting "contractors" bring the disease among their staff. I have made some phone calls to some staff and kept in touch with others through texting, and social media. As we have progressed down from Level 4 I have been in touch with my workplaces asking if I can return. The answer has still been "no". The emergency service staff in NZ have not had a really increased load during the Covid crisis, but they do not want anybody moving between the fire stations. I can see their point. If we had a second wave as things free up (as some countries have had) they will need all their staff available. If I carried the virus among one watch, that would debilitate the emergency services in Dunedin drastically. So apart from Zoom meetings with other chaplains, and the odd phone call, I have been a retired gentleman, just doing stuff around home. I feel like I have been dumped, and maybe this will be an enforced retirement. It is an interesting feeling. On one hand I am enjoying getting some handyman jobs done without interruption. On the other hand, I feel like I have been pushed aside, non-essential.
Advice...
In my cleaning up and repairs to my home study I found two bits of writing that give good advice for this stage of life.
The first was given to me by my childhood minister many years ago when he was asking me if I would lead his funeral. (I have since done that) He had picked it up from a poetry book "Masterpieces of Religious verse" which he valued so much, that I bought a copy early in my student days.
It reads;
Let me die, working.
still tackling plans unfinished, tasks undone!
Clean to its end, swift may my race be run.
No laggard steps, no faltering, no shrinking;
Let me die working!
Let me die, thinking.
Let me fare forth still with an open mind,
Fresh secrets to unfold, new truths to find,
My soul undimmed, alert, no question blinking;
Let me die, thinking!
Let me die, laughing.
No sighing o'er past sins; they are forgiven.
Spilled on this earth are all the joys of Heaven;
The wine of life, the cup of mirth quaffing.
Let me die, laughing!
(S. Hall Young, 1847 -1927)
One would be fortunate indeed if you could do these three things until you pass. At the moment I have a relative, in his eighties, in palliative care who has been battling a cancer and has lost his memory. He used to have such a good memory for detail. (Because of Covid restrictions, we can't visit him now.) In his time, the minister who gave me this poem seemed to become quite bitter. When he was quite elderly, people decided they didn't need him to work any more. He kept thinking, but also, try as he might, people were not interested in his thinking. He died a bit sad and bitter, in no mood to laugh. While I like this poem, there is a need for "gracefully letting go the things of youth".
Some advice for the "elderly"...
Be active
Be connected...
... giving to others time and energy.
Take notice and appreciate people and things in life.
Stop and smell the roses.
Keep learning.
Maybe I'll just keep blogging. :-)
I usually bike out to the cemetery each year on our ANZAC day, (25th April) which is the day we in NZ remember our soldiers. This year it didn't happen. Last Sunday, a month late, we went out to the war memorial area where my parent's ashes are buried and I "took a moment".
My dad died working "with tasks unfinished", and thinking and laughing, but he died young and suddenly!
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