Broken; Raccoon

 I just feel broken today.

Yesterday was a long day.  I worked in the morning, and then went to the dentist because of a persistent toothache over the last several days.  That tooth has a crown; Dr. McSoley popped it off, cleaned things up, and refitted it.  It feels better now, although there's still a bit of a dull ache.  And if that doesn't go away soon, it's time for yet another root canal.

Then I came home, rested a bit, and headed back to the museum for a team appreciation party.  It was just a laid back get-together with pizza for an hour or so.  It wasn't late when I got home - somewhat after 7, but dark and raining.  I went out to put the chickens up.

Raccoon in the scratch yard.  It's been four weeks since my hen Scissors was killed by one.  I have worked long and hard on that yard and I thought I had it secure.  But there were the bloody bodies of my black and white hen Spock - and my beautiful new rooster Jake.

I haven't even written about Jake yet.  Suzie gave him to me a week ago.  Funny story behind him - she was in a shopping center, and outside of the State Farm office there was a really beautiful small statue of a rooster.  She went for a closer look - and he moved.  So she stuck her head in the office to ask why they had a rooster.  Turned out that he and two hens had just shown up a couple of weeks before.  They had been nice enough to put food out.  The hens had succumbed to the danger of living in a parking lot. Suzie asked if they wanted her to take him - and she did.

The problem is that she had some young hens (because she, too, had raccoon problems and recently got new birds).  Jake was paying them too much gentlemanly attention (to put it politely) and she felt sorry for them, and asked if I wanted him.  I did.  My remaining two hens had been acting listless ever since the last raccoon attack, and they were used to having a rooster around.  Besides, Jake was just so damned beautiful.

And now I was standing in the rain, looking at his bloody body.

First I picked up my hen - I've had her for 6 years, and liked her, even though she wasn't laying much any more; she was a nice bird.  Then I started to pick up Jake - and he was still breathing.  With apologies to Spock, I gave her a hasty funeral, because one must tend to the living.  I got him washed off, covered him with bacitracin, and gave him some antibiotics and anti inflammatories.  I put him in a cage on a low heating bad.

Against all odds, he was still breathing this morning.  And this evening.  He's even moving slightly.  But his head is still just hanging loosely, his eyes are closed, and his breathing is rough.

Obviously I didn't sleep much last night.  I worked so hard on that chicken yard; I thought I had it safe again.  I did everything I could think of.  And yet - well, I couldn't stop hearing my father's voice:  "Your best isn't good enough."

I felt almost immobilized this morning. But I did get up, took care of Jake and my remaining hen Rocky (who has returned to the back deck) and the cats.  Got myself dressed and to work.  I had to tell Suzie what had happened to her beautiful bird.  She was very sweet, and even hugged me - which almost broke me.

I'm just feeling very fragile.  There's so much that has gone wrong since the day Bob got diagnosed.  We lost Fiona that day, and then a couple of months later Pookha, and a couple of months after that our friend Anna.  Then I lost him.  The air conditioning died and had to be replaced.  The ceiling leaked and part of it fell in.  The deck had to be torn out and rebuilt.  I lost Wilhelm, then Nazgul, and, a week after that, my friend Ellen.  We had had peacocks for almost 30 years - but bobcats (at best guess) got them.  I lost Apache, Hamish almost died (thank God he survived), and then I lost Tula.  Rob and Jeff and Nancy moved out of town, and Mischa has died.  Five of my six chickens killed.  I was given a beautiful bird - and now he's lying there, bloody, with his feathers ripped out.

That's a lot in just a few years, and I've been dealing with it alone.  Sometimes I am just so completely tired.  I wish I could just lean on someone, feel arms around me. Feel safe, if only for a little while.  I was cleaning the deer habitat this morning, and the tamest one came up to me.  No one was around;  I slid my arm around her and leaned my face on her side, feeling her breathe, feeling her heart beat.  I miss that so much.

But I made it through today, and came home and took care of everybody, then made tea and sat outside in the sun to read.  Even though it wasn't cold, I put on a sweatshirt and put up the hood, just for the need to feel enveloped, cocooned.  

I know a lot of this sadness is simply because I didn't get much sleep last night.  I'll crash soon, and be able to keep moving tomorrow.