Amandine, my house rooster, passed away a little over a year ago. He would have been 8 today, and I feel like being sappy:
A Eulogy to a Chicken To Amandine
Thank you for loving me, and guarding my heart as your own, for loving me even when I couldn’t love myself. But I never earned your love; you were molded to love me by a millennium of rooster selection, directed by imprinting you on humans. So, you gave it unconditionally. But you taught me to want to be worthy of it. To be worthy of trust from the other animals I share my life with. To love them without needing them to return that emotion. Because of you, I am a trainer building trusting relationships with other animals. I know now that love isn’t as important as trust. Love is never a guarantee and should not be expected. But regardless, thank you for giving me yours.
If I am lucky, our time apart will be longer than our time together. My memories will fade: the sound of your voice, the smell of your feathers (and your stinky breath). But no matter how faded it becomes, I hope the memory of you will never stop being dear to me. I still remember crooning “Danny Boy” to you in a dark office as you hatched with a small twisted wing, a convenient excuse to isolate and imprint you, that faded with age. I remember the moment I knew you were a rooster, less than a week old and trying to fight the dog. When you were older, sleeping next to me when I was sick. Courting my feet and making nests in the laundry. Panicking and alarm calling when I cried until I picked you up and held you.
I hope you had a wonderful last day. I hope That the heart attack was fast. I hope that you weren’t in pain before. The suddenness tore through me, but I hope for you it was the best way to go. And maybe I’m glad that I didn’t have to watch you fade slowly I never felt that your death would be a relief from watching you slowly decline; I would’ve hated myself for that.
Despite the constant anxiety over you the last couple years, and my issues with anticipating your eventual death, I never had to watch you slowly decline, so I can always remember you as bright and brilliant. And I hope you knew I loved you too. I’m sorry that Midori’s jealousy made me more distant the last years. But I’m glad that someone loved you as much as I did. Watching you explore together and you putting up with him LICKING YOUR EYEBALL memories I’ll treasure (but seriously WHAT THE HELL was up with the eyeball thing).
It’s hard to find people who understand why the death of a chicken devastated me so much. So, I’m grateful that someone mourned you by my side, even if he is a small green parrot. When I sat in a corner as far from your body as possible and bawled my eyes out, he preened your neck feathers for hours (and tried to hump your foot… but I guess everyone processes death differently). I hope he never stops speaking chicken so that I can always think of you when he chatters his silly imitations. Sometimes when he talks, I can close my eyes and pretend you’re still with us.
