Beautiful Creatures

From time to time I miss the wild chickens that I used to keep in the garden of my parent house. They were beautiful creatures. They were sociable and intelligent; territorial. Many of them were fearless, enjoying my company; some were shy and watchful. Just like dogs, cats, and humans, each of them is an individual with a distinct personality. I liked them coming in the kitchen scouring for food, walking around in the house. They always seemed to be talking to me with their perculiar language, so I talked to them with their language, then they startled and looking at each others and started talking to themselves, seemed to be laughing at me. They never forgot the corners where they laid their eggs. I watched the eggs hatched. I watched them grew up, aged and died. I made sure no human or other bigger animals would kill them for food. I taught them to sleep on the tree at nights. Then they taught each other and their generations to hop through branches to the top of the trees in every evening when the sun went down. Sometimes I woke up at night worrying about them when it rained and the wind howled. Now they all are gone just like many other things in my oldest home and memory. I only can think of them. Think of them fondly - the beautiful creatures that once climbed trees and slept on branches like owls...

20.10.2012, 05:12 pm, Wednesday.