A Flock for my Happiness?

Hi guys, I’m Amy. If you’ve been keeping up with the grab bag ori thread, you may have seen the short discussion of the severe emotional problems I’ve been having ever since breaking up with my ex about five months ago.

Without rehashing the entire thing, just suffice it to say I am in the absolute depths of despair, and I go to bed sobbing every night, begging God to just let me die. Let the suffering end.

I’ve had a lot of really wonderful messages from fellow forum members, both on that ori thread and PM’d to me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that support. I don’t really have friends in my daily life (that are around or have time for me at least), so the kind words from people here mean the world to me.

I’ve gotten a lot of advice, and one recurring theme is trying to learn to be happy alone/with myself. I’ve been told to try to get back into things that made me happy before I met my ex. This is proving difficult for me because if I really truly think about it, I wasn’t happy before I met my ex. I have been very dedicated to education and career building my entire life, and I haven’t really had time for fun. I’ve been telling myself for years that all the suffering will pay off someday when I’ve finally reached my goals. I’ve been all business all the time. I got together with my ex during my senior year of college (thankfully it was the last semester, because my grades really suffered and, for the first time in my life, I was really afraid I wouldn’t even graduate. That’s really strange and hard for someone who has been a 4.0 student their entire life. Instead of useful notes, my microbiology notebook was full of doodles of my engagement ring. I’ve never doodled in my life).

Anyway, now I’m trying to figure out some other things in my life that bring me any sort of happiness. I was with my ex my entire adult life, so I kind of have to look back to my childhood. That was also a really mixed bag. I was severely abused by my father, but there were some good things too. I’ve always been an animal lover, and one of the best things from when I was a kid was my chickens. We have a chicken coop in our back yard, and one spring, we went to the feed store and picked up a bunch of little chicks. That’s one time in my life I can point to that I was definitely happy. (Too bad that was 22 years ago, but what are you gonna do?) We brought them home and put them in a cardboard box in our utility room with a heat lamp and water dispenser and their little food trough. Watching those fluffly, cheeping little treasures really brought joy to my heart. They were such sweet little things, perching on my arms and shoulders, and not complaining when I’d pick them up and hold them.

They lived in that box for a time, but eventually they grew to the point that they were able to jump up on the edge of the box to roost. We have several pictures of them sitting on that box edge looking up at us. We decided it was time for them to move outside after they all jumped out of the box and ran all over the house, pooping everywhere (as chickens are apt to do). They had a first rate coop. It had a roof with shingles and everything, and a large fenced area with lots of grass and space, so I’d like to imagine the transition outside wasn’t too bad for them. It was so exciting when they began laying eggs. We had two cylindrical compost bins out by the coop, and the hens would often hop up inside and lay their eggs in the bins. I was so excited to run out there and look for the eggs. I always hoped there would be babies, but every egg I ever held up to the flashlight was unfertilized, and no little babies ever emerged from the coop, so I guess the hens were managing to keep the roosters at bay.

It was amazing to watch them grow from little tiny fluff balls to t-rex footed adult birds. They were still quite friendly and would tolerate me, still a little girl, running around with them and holding them. I loved everything about them: the clucking, how their combs would flop around when they’d move their heads, their piercing eyes, and how soft their feathers were. I was always so scared when it was time to clip their wings so they wouldn’t jump the fence. My neighbor used to get really angry if they found their way into his year.

I had one younger brother at the time we got the chickens, and another one was born during the time the chickens were adults. When he was 4 months old, he contracted a rare disease, called infant botulism (which is caused by ingesting a botulism spore. In babies the spores usually come from honey or dust (in adults it’s most often improperly canned/jarred food. If you ever see a bulging can, DON’T EAT FROM IT!!!) My mom certainly didn’t give him any honey, but my neighbor was building a custom home at the time, and there was a ton of dust in the air around our house, so we’ve always figured that was the source.) Anyway, this disease is very serious. Once ingested, the spore germinates and multiplies, releasing toxins throughout the body. It causes total body paralysis and nerve death, so understandably, he had to be hospitalized and put on life support for several months. This was obviously an extremely difficult time for my parents. My mom moved up north to stay with my brother in the hospital full time, leaving me and my other brother (now 6 and 3 respectively) alone with my dad.
With a child essentially dying in the hospital, my dad didn’t have time to care for our flock anymore, so he asked the man at the feed store if he could find new homes for my precious chickens. I sobbed and sobbed. Now not only had I lost my mom and was forced to live full time with my abusive father, my only friends were gone too. It broke my heart…

When Melody released the hen and rooster PYOs I couldn’t help but tear up. They look so much like my old friends. I’ve been wishing and wishing I could commission someone to paint me my friends so I could see them again. I haven’t looked into it too heavily because I know how expensive it would be, but I’m getting worse by the day and I feel like I need to do something to try to help myself. So I’d like to at least talk to someone about how much money and time it would take to recreate my flock.

Here’s a description of them (and please don’t judge their names too harshly. I named them all when I was 5.)

I had:

2 Buff Orpington Roosters:
-Skedaddler (my big tough boy who attacked even my parents, but never hurt me. We kept him for a while, but eventually my dad got sick of being attacked every time he went outside. It wasn’t anything crazy, just feet pecking, but dad had a short temper. I cried and begged him not to, but he took Skedaddler back to the feed store and gave him back to the man at the counter. The man laughed and said not to worry, and that his other roosters would put Skedaddler in his place. Skedaddler proceeded to kicked the butt of every other rooster on that man’s farm, and for his reward, he got his head cut off. My poor boy. T_T He was too tough for this world.)

-Tenderfoot (the less dominant male. Much more reserved and quiet. Never bothered the hens)

1 Australorp Hen
-Blacky (My mom’s favorite. She had beautiful black feathers that shone emerald green in the light. Like color shift paint come to life)

1 Fryer Hen (not sure of the real breed name. Possibly a Leghorn? She was my favorite because she was yellow as a baby, just like the Easter chicks you always see. I think she would have been white as an adult, but not sure. This unfortunately was just another opportunity for my dad to torture me. He let me get her, fall in love with her, then after a she got a little bit older he proceeded to tell me that she would eventually eat so much and get so fat that her legs would break, so we were getting rid of her. I don’t even know to this day if that would have happened, but how cruel…so he took her away from me before I saw how she would have looked as an adult. I always imagine her being pure white with a red comb and yellow legs)
-Yellowy

2 Rhode Island Red Hens
-Redlandy (Probably my favorite, after Yellowy was taken away. Sweet, sweet girl. Would put up with me being all over her.)

-Dangercall (She was a bit wild and apt to peck. Still loved her though. Just had to remember to keep her away from my eyes)

2 Barred Rock Hens
-Rocky (My little brother’s favorite. She was a sweet girl also. Tolerated being handled really well. Didn’t ever try to peck.)
-? (I can’t remember her name right now. She’s the smaller one in the picture)

By my math, this is already $210 just in blank PYOs, so then once we include the cost to paint them all and mail them I’m sure we’re talking probably over $1,000. This would be quite irresponsible of me to spend, so I’m thinking maybe I’d just narrow it down to my absolute favorites.

I’d at least like to get an estimate for Skedaddler, Redlandy, Yellowy, Blacky and Rocky.

Just for your enjoyment, here’s a picture of Yellowy, Blacky and Redlandy as teenagers, perching on our porch railing. Aren’t they adorable?

And here are a few pictures I’ve found on google of the amazing paint jobs some hen/rooster PYOs have received. I think Melody might even have been the artist…