Thursday, May 31, 2018

Chicken bullying causes flashbacks

The brown Silkie is on the bottom of the pecking order. If she comes out for food or water she will be bullied by the other five. She tries to get as much to eat and drink while dodging attacks then she hides in the hutch the rest of the time.

I know the pecking order is natural for chickens but to see it happening in real time where all off her pen mates alternatively attacked her or chased her away reminded me of my childhood where I was effectively a brown Silkie. I haven't cooked off with a mad self-rant about school and parental thuggery for some time but once she fled to the pen equivalent of a school library I triggered. I started shouting, slamming doors and freaking the cats out as I relived micro-memories off all those incidents caused directly or indirectly by my parents for putting me in an institution that had a pecking order mentality where weak boys were held up for ridicule. I was literally put on stage in front of the entire school to have my flaws pointed out. If that sort of shit doesn't fuck you up then I don't know what does.

I was treated as broken for as long as I can remember and that chicken's experience was my experience---at school and in the home. I got loomed over more times than I can count and was chased to be beaten more than once.

And all I can do for that chicken is give her a haircut to improve her visibility except I realised her puffy head feathers actually protected her from beak strikes to the skull. I may have made it worse.

Those micro-memories flashed across my skull like a zoetrope; being ankle tapped to fall onto gravel with bare hands or that time a fuckwit bailed me up in a maths room with the giant wooden compass with a thick metal point and tried to stab me with it.

It was a place that celebrated masculinity and I was thrown in there as fat effete chum.

All I can do now is note than was 30 years ago, that those fuckwits are hopefully having a horrid life and that I am my best true self that looked after a chunk of Oz I did not know.

They were formative experiences from my childhood. At least I can say I didn't pass that damage on.

But, fuck me, if you don't get sucked back into that moment of childhood vulnerability when the memories come running.

UPDATE: I may have made it worse by changing her appearance because the others may not realise it's her. And new chickens are exposed to pecking to re-establish the order. Shit. 

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