The Great Chicken in the Sky
The height of my religiousness peaked at 12 years old, right about the time my favorite chicken got mauled by a fox. Back then, going to church and praying was as much a part of my Catholic school curriculum as social studies. I wasn’t a fan of either.
The night the fox attacked my Brahma hen Tweety, I decided it was time to use my super duper prayer training skills to convince God that Tweety should survive the night. It never occurred to me that God might have more important things to do than salvage some weird little girl’s pet chicken, but rationality wasn’t one of my stronger points. So, I stayed up the entire night, praying to God through a mess of tears and snot.
As much as I begged him to work a modern miracle and heal all of my bird’s wounds, Tweety did not recover. I still had to go to school the next morning and give the bad news to my best friend Tessa. I told her that the bird she and I had spent so many hours giving chicken manicures to had, in fact, died. I pretended that I forgave God for not making my chicken a priority over world hunger and global poverty. I pretended I didn’t care.
I’m not a Catholic anymore and I don’t go to church. Not because I have some deep-seated grudge against God but because, after a while, it all stopped making sense to me. Over the years, my church turned into a barn and taking care of animals became as close to religion as I’ve come since. These days, when people ask me what my faith is, I joke and say, “I pray to the Great Chicken in the Sky.” Maybe, just maybe, it’s not that far from the truth.
Nicknamed “The Chicken Lady,” Laura Field is a writer and agriculture enthusiast who grew up on a small farm in Cheshire, Massachusetts. Since she was young, she has worked on several farms, including Hancock Shaker Village. She currently works as director of public relations for Woodstock Sustainable Farms in Woodstock, Connecticut, and can be found giving chicken-keeping workshops in the Berkshires.
To read her blog, visit ChickenLadyLaura.wordpress.com