I stoop closer, squinting through the dim morning light. Below me, surrendering to fate, a little wet and mangled chick, too weak to peep or move away from the trampling of her fellow hatchlings. Scooping up her wet body, tucking her against the warmth of my skin, I’m torn between the rules of nature – so evident in the little souls competing for their own warmth and survival – and my compulsion to save her from the judgement of her imperfection.
Inside the family draws to her, dropping their gaming and texting. Focusing like mother hens, they begin their nesting…cooing “you poor thing…here you go…you’re ok…we’ll take care of you”. She stares up at us with unblinking eyes accepting out efforts…days of anguish watching her flail and falter; evenings of quieting her desperate cheeping with cupped hand cradling her under the lovingly selected stuffy teddy, her new surrogate mother; mornings tentatively peeking to see if she’d survived the night; laughing at her preference for being hand-fed her favorite mixture of yogurt with broccoli florets; amazed at the mess such a small creature can kick up as she instinctively emulates those 'chicken scratching' moves despite never having watched her mother. With our love and energy, she persevered, growing strong, eventually strong enough to compete in her own right for a place amongst the flock.
Now, as I watch her in the yard, feathers gleaming in the sunshine, busily scratching amongst the weeds, I laugh – amused by her diligence and filled with the joy of all the memories attached to her. This little rejection tossed aside…those flaws and imperfections that brought her in so close to our hearts. Our little reminder of the joys, beauty and potential in imperfection.
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