Chicken Slaughter
I know I post maybe all of once a year...but I just had to write this down. It's far too worth telling to deny it's telling:
THE SET UP: Tonight is my last night of my stay with my family out in the country (oh so stereotypical NY hot spot...le Hamptons), and the night was shaping up to be great. Leah (10 yrs), Harly (18yrs), and I were having a sister's night in. We went through a bunch of my childhood belongings and photos, then made dinner, played ouiji (silly, but satisfying), and then watched a movie while doing nails. All was well...
THE BACK STORY: Before I delve into what happened next, you must understand that every summer my step-mom gets Leah chickens, ducks, etc to take care of for the summer. Between her passion for riding horses and becoming a vegetarian, Leah really loves her animals. She takes their little lives rather seriously. Yet every year, a bunch of her summer birds do not make it through the season via one tragedy or another. Many a morning has Leah found her bird dead because of rain, cold, one pecked the other to death, etc. She takes it very seriously...
THE DISASTER STRIKES: All was well tonight until my dad came into Leah's bedroom (where we were gathered) and asked Leah if she had put the chicks away for the night. I started to tell him she had done so, but she quickly gasped and revealed she had only half put them away (earlier that evening when I was making dinner, she told me that she was on her way to put the chicks back). Harly, Leah, and I resigned ourselves to grab the flashlight and go through the creepy woods to secure the pen.
It's amazing to think that we were laughing nervously to ourselves about the spooky dark on our way down to what would be disaster. As we approached the pen, Leah shined the light on the open gate, and she made her way towards the entrance. As she fumbled to open the outside gate, a flash revealed the freshly killed bloody and mangled corpse of her chicken "Cassie".
"Oh God" I choked
"Is it.." Harly started to say, but Leah's flashlight was faster and shone on the rump of a raccoon as it thumped into the little chicken house to destroy the baby ducklings and chicks.
Leah's face was pure panic, her breathing ragged.
"We have to get her out of here," I said to Harly, knowing there was no way to save those birds with Leah's hand still in mine (not to mention no knowledge of how dangerous a raccoon could be to us what with disease and the fact is was strong enough to mangle a large chicken!).
As we started to move her away, Leah let out a piercing, ear-shattering SCREAM.
No- a shreik. When she ran out of air, another scream ripped through the air.
I don't even think she realized she was screaming at the time. I tried to calm and quiet her, but thank God Harly had the sense to yell out "It's the chickens, the raccoons got to them!" before Dad or Bonnie (my step mom) could begin to think someone was murdering us in the woods.
In a matter of seconds Dad and Bonnie ran out; Bonnie (who grew up in the country) grabbed the flashlight from Leah and yelled "get back to the house!" while Dad (who is a big guy of 6'1) followed.
Leah was running now, stuttering over words and names, but not really saying anything.
Harly (again with amazing presence of mind) yelled "Sammy! Is he out?!" My dog, Sammy, is 5 pounds, and could have easily slipped out behind Dad and Bonnie and gotten lost in the night or eaten by the raccoon. Thank goodness Sammy senses true crisis; Harly found him trembling in my father's bathroom (most likely because of Leah's screaming, which may have saved him as a result).
Leah ran upstairs, shoved herself under her blanked and just wailed. Bonnie's mother was wakened by the screaming. She and I rarely get along, but for those 5 minutes we were both just trying to calm Leah down. She was yelling, rolling, and thrashing; as if that would let her go back and fix it all.
Her grandmother kept saying, "Your being this upset will only make your mother more upset!"...the guilt technique. But the true horror of what Leah was grappling with, I know, comes down to the fact that she blamed herself for what happened; she sees herself with blood on her hands.
Despite my murmurs of "its not your fault", Leah was beside herself with self-anger. What I really wanted to explain is that the whole idea of getting chickens for a NYC family is insane to begin with; and the yearly deaths are probably a good sign that its a shitty plan.
Finally Bonnie and Dad returned from the pen (my Dad later reporting not a single bird made it), and took Leah to their room for the night.
Harly and I spent the next hour just coping with everything we'd seen. I always said that despite my envy towards Leah for the lack of emotional crisis (no divorce, no eviction!) I would never wish any similar situation on her.
Tonight, in that moment of her scream, I knew how deeply true that was. The awful feeling I can't seem to shake is how horrified she was, and how little I could do to help.
THE SET UP: Tonight is my last night of my stay with my family out in the country (oh so stereotypical NY hot spot...le Hamptons), and the night was shaping up to be great. Leah (10 yrs), Harly (18yrs), and I were having a sister's night in. We went through a bunch of my childhood belongings and photos, then made dinner, played ouiji (silly, but satisfying), and then watched a movie while doing nails. All was well...
THE BACK STORY: Before I delve into what happened next, you must understand that every summer my step-mom gets Leah chickens, ducks, etc to take care of for the summer. Between her passion for riding horses and becoming a vegetarian, Leah really loves her animals. She takes their little lives rather seriously. Yet every year, a bunch of her summer birds do not make it through the season via one tragedy or another. Many a morning has Leah found her bird dead because of rain, cold, one pecked the other to death, etc. She takes it very seriously...
THE DISASTER STRIKES: All was well tonight until my dad came into Leah's bedroom (where we were gathered) and asked Leah if she had put the chicks away for the night. I started to tell him she had done so, but she quickly gasped and revealed she had only half put them away (earlier that evening when I was making dinner, she told me that she was on her way to put the chicks back). Harly, Leah, and I resigned ourselves to grab the flashlight and go through the creepy woods to secure the pen.
It's amazing to think that we were laughing nervously to ourselves about the spooky dark on our way down to what would be disaster. As we approached the pen, Leah shined the light on the open gate, and she made her way towards the entrance. As she fumbled to open the outside gate, a flash revealed the freshly killed bloody and mangled corpse of her chicken "Cassie".
"Oh God" I choked
"Is it.." Harly started to say, but Leah's flashlight was faster and shone on the rump of a raccoon as it thumped into the little chicken house to destroy the baby ducklings and chicks.
Leah's face was pure panic, her breathing ragged.
"We have to get her out of here," I said to Harly, knowing there was no way to save those birds with Leah's hand still in mine (not to mention no knowledge of how dangerous a raccoon could be to us what with disease and the fact is was strong enough to mangle a large chicken!).
As we started to move her away, Leah let out a piercing, ear-shattering SCREAM.
No- a shreik. When she ran out of air, another scream ripped through the air.
I don't even think she realized she was screaming at the time. I tried to calm and quiet her, but thank God Harly had the sense to yell out "It's the chickens, the raccoons got to them!" before Dad or Bonnie (my step mom) could begin to think someone was murdering us in the woods.
In a matter of seconds Dad and Bonnie ran out; Bonnie (who grew up in the country) grabbed the flashlight from Leah and yelled "get back to the house!" while Dad (who is a big guy of 6'1) followed.
Leah was running now, stuttering over words and names, but not really saying anything.
Harly (again with amazing presence of mind) yelled "Sammy! Is he out?!" My dog, Sammy, is 5 pounds, and could have easily slipped out behind Dad and Bonnie and gotten lost in the night or eaten by the raccoon. Thank goodness Sammy senses true crisis; Harly found him trembling in my father's bathroom (most likely because of Leah's screaming, which may have saved him as a result).
Leah ran upstairs, shoved herself under her blanked and just wailed. Bonnie's mother was wakened by the screaming. She and I rarely get along, but for those 5 minutes we were both just trying to calm Leah down. She was yelling, rolling, and thrashing; as if that would let her go back and fix it all.
Her grandmother kept saying, "Your being this upset will only make your mother more upset!"...the guilt technique. But the true horror of what Leah was grappling with, I know, comes down to the fact that she blamed herself for what happened; she sees herself with blood on her hands.
Despite my murmurs of "its not your fault", Leah was beside herself with self-anger. What I really wanted to explain is that the whole idea of getting chickens for a NYC family is insane to begin with; and the yearly deaths are probably a good sign that its a shitty plan.
Finally Bonnie and Dad returned from the pen (my Dad later reporting not a single bird made it), and took Leah to their room for the night.
Harly and I spent the next hour just coping with everything we'd seen. I always said that despite my envy towards Leah for the lack of emotional crisis (no divorce, no eviction!) I would never wish any similar situation on her.
Tonight, in that moment of her scream, I knew how deeply true that was. The awful feeling I can't seem to shake is how horrified she was, and how little I could do to help.