Five hens in that pile. One hen left unscathed. My little brood is destroyed. Sadness engulfs me. I am strangely attached to these little birds. But then as I am starting to turn, I see one of the fallen hen’s chests still moving, still breathing, and a faint glimmer of hope stirs. I look closer. Maybe. Just maybe I will have 2. I can’t bring myself to clean up what has happened just yet, deciding to wait until the morning, and as I fall asleep I send up a little prayer for two live chickens.
We have been hit by coyotes, but we interrupted their hunt, so they leave with nothing. A little later, as I am falling asleep, I hear them howl, having finally found their dinner.
Such is life. Sometimes we lose what is dear to us, sometimes we are covered in mud, sometimes we find hope in small victories. Always we continue on.