how we grow up

what to do with this?

On our little farm, we learn about the horrors and injustices of life on a small, safe scale. Yesterday as we re-stocked the feed, hay and straw in the shed, Oliver came to me extremely upset. "Mama, a chicken is bleeding on its foot!" Trying, for once, to accomplish the work at hand, I told Ollie I'd check on the chicken when I finished unloading feed from the van. He disappeared and returned crying the saddest, most heartbreaking tears, "Mama, another chicken is pecking at the hurt one!" This time my sweet little boy got my full attention. We went out to survey the situation and there was a fat, red, chicken, laying in the dirt, with another one pecking at its legs. 

Chickens are bad like this, bloodthirsty.  When they detect an injury, they will exploit it without mercy. We doctored up the hurt bird and put it in a cage to let it heal safely. From the look on Ollie's tear-stained face, it was clear that he was experiencing the full reality of cruelty. With big hugs, I assured him he had saved the injured chicken. We talked a little bit about chicken world and about how sad it was for him to witness the horrifying scene.

Later in the day, as Oliver re-told the story to others in the family, his empathy turned to bravado and then to excitement for telling the tale. Witnessing that shift, from tenderness to toughness, a lump of sorrow grew in my own chest. Taking care of an injured critter is kind of gross, but that is the easy part. It's doctoring the delicate hearts of we humans that I'm not so sure about.