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This morning, I paused on the front porch with a cup of hot coffee before commencing to trudge through my . I needed to gather my energy because the sub-freezing temperature meant that was in store for me as I set out food and water in the various foraging yards (as well as the front yard, which a motley flock of renegade chickens ranging from the tiny Bantam hen called "Lady Catherine" to the plump and always mysteriously muddy "" hen known as "the New Mosselle" have claimed as their own). Watching a flock of red-winged blackbirds mob the feed bowls in the infirmary yard reminded me of how wonderous it always is to me to see the wild birds and the sanctuary birds mingling peacefully. And then I got to work. Even though I usually hate even-numbered years, I'm glad it's 2008. 2007 was rough and I'm ready for a fresh start. Like most people, I'm not so good at taking . I've gotten a lot better -- but still have far to go -- at taking care of my body and I've always been pretty good at doing solo activities that help me to work through, or at least survive, emotionally difficult times. But I'm just terrible at talking about my troubles. I'm really good at listening to other people's feelings and quite good at telling other people to talk about their feelings but not so good at talking about my own. I tend to hide it when I'm stressed or depressed. (It occurs to me that, in this, I am like chickens. You'll see what I mean a bit later in this post. ) I think that's not so good, not only for me personally but also for my work, which I consider to be not only doing my own part teaching, writing, and running the sanctuary but also joining in a collective process of building more sustainable activist movements. If people like me, who have some visibility [viagra for sale] due to speaking and writing, never admit when we're stressed or depressed, then the dangerous ethos of never showing weakness while working until you drop goes unchallenged. Okay, then, I'll say it: The past year has been very hard for me. It's been just about a year since sanctuary cofounder Miriam Jones went from living here half-time to coming by for a few days every few weeks to give me a break. Apart from those few days each month and four hours every Saturday when santuary helper Christopher comes, it's just me here taking care of the birds, teaching to make a living, trying to meet my obligations as a speaker and writer, and juggling all of the other tasks associated with the sanctuary. Add to that the Febuary and the that simultaneously added to my workload and dispirited me, and you can maybe see why, roundabout mid-year viagra for sale, I started to fall behind, to feel bad about falling behind, and eventually spin into one of those spirals of feeling so bad about falling behind that you fall further and further behind. I always make sure that the animals are well cared for but lots of other important things have been done very belatedly or not gotten done at all. I've been gradually climbing my way out of that death-trap in recent weeks. This is part of that process: Coming clean about what's been happening. If anybody reading this is one of the many people I owe phone calls, letters, or email messages: Please forgive me. I'm doing my best and you'll be hearing from me personally soon. Even though it's still quite cold outside, I'm somewhat overheated as I'm writing this. That's because, , there's a bird in the library with me. Cold weather means trouble for chickens, who inherited from their wild Jungle Fowl ancestors a tendency to hide their ailments until they are too weak to hide them any longer. Whenever the weather turns, the added stress of the cold usually reveals the birds who have been hiding their infirmaties. I keep a close eye on the birds anyway, looking closely at everybody every day in the hopes of detecting behavioral changes indicating that something may be wrong. Viagra for viagra for sale sale i look even more closely during times of weather stress. But I didn't need to look very closely to notice that one rooster was moving very slowly this morning. The elderly rooster called Augustus let me pick him up without protest, another sign that he wasn't feeling well. He felt light too, indicating that he's not been eating properly. After I brought him inside to the library and got him set up in a cage with food and vitamized and medicated water, he perked up and started eating. That, along with the absense of signs of any illness, tells me that he's probably just slowing down at the end of his natural life cycle and the extreme cold this morning was just too much for him. I'll keep him inside during this cold snap, keep an eye on him to see if treatment beyond antibiotics is warranted, and then move him to the infirmary coop when/if he's ready to mingle with other chickens and go outside again. Augustus has been with us for years! When he moved in soon after we started the sanctuary, he was a young bird who, because he had been a pampered "pet' believed himself to be the glorious center of the chicken universe. The hens and other roosters didn't share his high opinion of himself and he had to moderate his ego to find himself a place in the flock. Thinking of how long he's been here with us reminds me of how long we've been here. This month will mark the eighth anniversary of the day Miriam Jones and I found a chicken by the side of the road. A lot of sanctuaries don't last so long, specifically because of the kinds of stresses I've faced this year. However bad I feel about my many failings this year, I still feel proud that we're still here.


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