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 Recalling Rosetta
No one knew the origin of the precocious
seven-week old hen who jumped onto Nancy's lap
during a visit to friend in Bakersfield village,
so she brought her home. I had just broken my
foot and was in a cast up to my knee. On the
porch, we built a coon-proof cage and put
Rosetta there at night. On the third night,
however, we awakened to horrific squawks: a
particularly determined raccoon had managed to
spring the top of that cage, ripping open our
new hen's breast and shattering her right leg.
Our vet, astonished that she had survived the
attack at all, sewed her up and set the leg. In
what has been the oddest bonding experience of
my life, Rosetta and I hung out on the porch for
the next two weeks, our right legs encased in
white plaster. Unfortunately, she never regained
the use of hers because the tendons to her foot
had been irreparably damaged, but she soon
learned to navigate perfectly on one leg, moving
with incredible speed like a feathered,
turbo-charged pogo stick. She'd hop up the steps
onto the porch and peck at the door until we let
her in. During meals, she stayed in the kitchen,
often harassing occasionally mortified guests
for food by gentle pecks on the ankles. When the
urge struck her, which was often, she would jump
onto our laps for some serious neck massages,
her eyelids rolling up like window shades as she
emitted distinctly musical sighs. We constructed
a secure pen for her outside and a large pen
inside beneath the stairs, where she slept at
night.
 For five years,
life progressed normally, or at least as
normally as life could progress with a
one-legged lap chicken living in the house.
During that time she became our constant dinner
companion (developing a sophisticated palate in
the process), alarm clock, and doorbell. One of
our cats formed a deep friendship with her, and
the two would often cuddle by the woodstove
during the winter months.
Of course, she began to give us eggs and did
so proudly for about four years. Then one night
we awoke to squawks much like those that had
erupted from her during the coon assault. We ran
downstairs, certain we would witness the end of
a by now beloved and indispensable part of the
family. She soon quieted down, however, after
passing what appeared to be a leathery object
shaped like a football and about the size of a
softball. Perplexed, I placed it in a box and
presented it to our vet the next morning. He
stared at it skeptically, noting he had never
seen anything like it come out of a chicken - or
any other animal for that matter. Science
demanded further exploration and a dissection
revealed a perfect egg encased within the
leathery outer shell. "I don't know what to tell
you," he said. "I haven't the slightest idea
what this is all about." We never did find the
answer.
About six months later I found Rosetta
sitting absolutely still in the front yard,
unable to move her one good leg. A few hours
later avian specialist Dr. Steven Metz gave her
an extensive examination in Shelburne. He ruled
out injury and viral infection, guessing she had
most likely suffered a stroke. She was extremely
weak and would,. he suggested as gently as he
could, probably die; but she wasn't in any pain,
so we had nothing to lose by trying to keep her
hydrated and fed with a medicine dropper to buy
some time in case she could regain her strength.
Metz noted that aside from the obvious
impairment, she seemed curiously calm, alert,
and above all, happy. She had a chance, however
slim.
After we spent weeks feeding her baby formula
and performing physical therapy on her leg,
including one ill-advised session of
hydrotherapy in the bathtub, our hen was back on
her foot, on her way to eventual recovery. She
would suffer three more strokes in the next
three years, each of which should have killed
her, but she kept going.
A year after the initial one, I called WKDR
during Dr. Metz' weekly pet show and reminded
him of Rosetta's visit, a visit he immediately
recalled. Telling him someone wanted to speak to
him, I placed the receiver in front of her, and
she immediately began clucking happily into the
mouthpiece. Metz was delighted and later told
the audience, "You know, it's things like this
that make it all so worth it."
As far as I know, Rosetta is the only chicken
to have spoken on a radio call-in show, at least
locally.
 Two things about
Rosetta struck all those who met her: an obvious
joy of being alive and her capacity for love. I
will never forget the sight of my friend Tudor
Petrov, a colonel in the Moldovan Interior
Ministry, lying on the kitchen floor as he
gently stroked Rosetta's, back saying in a
distinctly child-like voice,"Nice cheeekeeen,
nice cheekeeeen." This twisted up, somewhat
spastic bird brought out the tenderness in all
who knew her. When travel took us away for
protracted periods, a network of friends came
forward to take care of her. For eight years,
she taught our family and friends a lot about
the compelling beauty of unconditional love and
the sentience of all creatures.
Soon after Thanksgiving last year, she
stopped eating and began to fade slowly away.
Her death five days later was peaceful and
leisurely, as if although ready to go, she knew
we needed a little more time to say goodbye. I
know she had an amazing life for a chicken, and
I know it was time for her to go, but I continue
to miss her terribly. There is a huge, empty
place underneath the stairs.
Sometimes I used to watch her sleep and
dream, and I wonder now, as I did then, if her
soul weighs any less than mine. I hope we meet
again.
Hope and Johnny
Hope and Johnny are two pigs
who used to live at Farm Sanctuary. When Hope
was rescued from a stockyard, she had a severely
injured leg which was beyond repair, and she
lived out her life with impaired mobility. Johnny
was much younger than Hope, and he was fully
healthy and mobile. Johnny bonded closely with
Hope, and spent practically every hour, day and
night, with her. At night, Johnny would sleep
near Hope, laying up against her to keep her
warm on cold nights. Every morning, bowls of
food were placed in front of Hope, and Johnny
would stay with her to keep other pigs from
interfering with her food. When Hope died of old
age, Johnny was devastated, and he died suddenly
and unexpectedly within a couple weeks. Johnny
had no health problems, and the only explanation
for his untimely death is that he died of a
broken heart.
Henny the
Chicken
Henny, a hen
rescued from a slaughterhouse, was brought to
live in a household consisting of two people,
three cats, and four dogs, and she fit right in.
Henny enjoyed everybody's company. She would sit
on the couch close to the cats and dogs, and she
also liked to sit on people's laps. At night,
Henny insisted on sleeping with everybody else
on the bed, and happily perched on the corner of
the bed. She would express her comfort and
satisfaction with gentle cooing
sounds.
Ducklings in
Trouble, Mother Calls the
Police
VANCOUVER, British Columbia (Reuters) -
When a family of ducklings fell down a Vancouver
sewer grate their mother did what
any parent would do. She got help from a passing
police officer.
Vancouver police officer Ray Peterson
admitted he was not sure
what to make of the duck that grabbed him by the
pant leg
while he was on foot patrol on Wednesday evening
in a neighborhood near the city's
downtown.
"I though it was a bit goofy, so I shoved
it away," Peterson told the Vancouver Sun
newspaper.
The mother duck persisted, grabbing
Peterson's leg again when
he tried to leave, and then waddling to a nearby
sewer grate
where she sat down and waited for him to follow
and investigate.
"I went up to where the duck was lying
and saw eight little babies in the water below," he
said.
Police said they removed the heavy metal
grate with the help of a
tow truck and used a vegetable strainer to lift
the ducklings to safety.
Mother and offspring then departed for a
nearby pond.
Quest for
Freedom
 "Queenie" was a
young cow who was slated for slaughter at
Astoria Live Poultry, a meat market that keeps
live animals and allows customers to choose the
animals they want butchered. After hearing the
screams of other animals, Queenie made her own
choice—a choice any animal would make in the
same situation if given a chance. She escaped
from the slaughterhouse, and ran several blocks
through the streets of New York City, surprising
motorists and passers-by. Though she avoided
capture at first, the five-hundred-pound cow was
finally caught after a wild chase with NYPD
cars, local authorities, and a tranquilizer
gun.
Queenie's freedom dash was quickly picked
up by the media—and her story spread throughout
the country. Queenie's courageous escape was
featured on national television, and millions of
viewers saw a frightened cow running from the
slaughterhouse, clearly aware of the fate that
had awaited her. Hundreds of calls poured into
The Center for Animal Care and Control and
Astoria Live Poultry, urging both the agency and
the slaughterhouse owner to release the animal
to a sanctuary where she could live out the
remainder of her life.
Now residing with her fellow cows at Farm
Sanctuary's New York shelter, Queenie has put a
face on vegetarianism. With news stories on the
major television networks, Associated Press, and
articles in The New York Times, New York
Daily News, and dozens of other newspapers,
millions of people learned that farm animals
have feelings, too.
Owners concerned
over mourning pig
(UK)
Owners of an animal centre in Hertfordshire are
worried about a mourning pig.
Poddington the Peruvian Pygmy stopped
eating and started picking fights with other
animals after her sister died.
Wendy and John Scudamore have even tried
a herbal remedy similar to Prozac without
success. The herbal remedy Aconite, which is
similar to Prozac, has failed to make her feel
better.
Mrs Scudamore, who runs the centre in
Kentchurch, said: “Poddington was devastated
when her sister died. We left the body with her
for a day so she could mourn then took it
away.
“But she never moved from the spot. I
even put a bed in her shed and slept with her
for comfort.”
Dr Nick Neave, an animal psychologist at
the University of Northumbria, told the
Sunday People: “It sounds like she is
severely depressed.”
He says pigs are intelligent and have the
same emotions as humans but cannot communicate
them as well.
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