On Monday, I discovered one of my Cornish Rocks with a string wrapped around one leg. That discarded eighteen inch piece of string belonged to a feed bag and attached to a length of wire which the unlucky chicken dragged around the otherwise sparsely furnished chicken coop. This unfortunate circumstance happened several days earlier. How do I know this? My little chicken, now Chicken Little, grew half the size of the other thirteen coop-mates. Chicken Little’s right legged extended straight out from her feathered frame due to dragging the mass. Even though the leg could be flexed, after removing the drag, CL could still not walk properly. The mishap injured her and crippled her. I pray she recovers but I doubt she will. So who is responsible for the crippled chicken?
In my earlier blogs I have besmirched poultry, really all birds, as “bird brains”. Knowing how to get into trouble but not knowing how to get out of it. Also, in another blog, I assumed that my chickens knew what they were doing when it came to birthing before finding a dead chick in the nest box. Who is responsible for the chickens? Who is responsible for the dangerous debris littering the coops and the grounds? Who makes assumptions? The chickens? No. Of course it is the clueless farmer. Yeah, the one over there with the big brain and bushel of assumptions. The one holding a crippled Cornish Rock in one hand and a dead Buff Orpington chick in the other. The one making judgements about those under his care and now facing judgement for his lack of care. Recommendation? Cleanup, shut-up, and be a farmer not a philosopher.
I stated last Sunday that I blogged for a hobby, blogged about how my farm animals knew how to get into trouble but never knew how to get out which closely paralleled my own conundrums. This chick-caught-on-a-string-and-wire episode sits as a good example. Months ago, I accepted an invitation to a gathering with pleasure. Weeks ago, I realized the reason for the invitation with apprehension. Days ago, I accepted my financial obligation with trepidation. Now, I lay here along side my crippled chick, tangled up in a situation, dragging an unwanted responsibility, and fearing that I will never be quite the fully functioning believer that I was before I got entangled.
Just as I am responsible for removing the hazards to my farm animal and rescuing them when they get into trouble, so also am I responsible for removing hazards to myself and for extricating my limbs from the tangles of life and the people in my life. Don’t say yes so easily to strangers, it is a steep slope. Question the details of what you are getting into before getting into it. If money or time is involved, gather enough information so that you can set a limit. Even though charity should be unbound generosity, in reality it can become unbound avarice. The meek can become predatory if you allow yourself to become prey. Your donation can become robbery if you never stop and say nay. It is better to stop giving in time than to stop giving altogether.