Close to Nowhere

Listening to chickens

One of the biggest problems I've heard about during the pandemic (other than actually having the virus) is anxiety. They talk about it on the news all the time and some of the ideas and suggestions are, in my opinion, for me, kind of silly. They may work for you, but I don't see that laying down with cucumber slices on my eyes as a thing I want to do. First, I'd want to eat the cucumbers. I love cucumbers.

Then, if I were lying down, I'd either go to sleep or my brain would kick into overdrive and the panic and anxiety would be even worse.

And I've always had really bad nightmares. It seems like they're worse lately. So going to sleep is not fun either.

One granddaughter has already gone to see a therapist and she's finally beginning to feel some better. The other granddaughter needs to go. She has terrible panic/anxiety attacks.

I have found a cure that works for me finally. OK, maybe not a cure, but at least it's a stress reducer.

I sit in the back door and feed the chickens. Sometimes, I just sit in the house and listen to them.

Technically, the chickens belong to my daughter who lives next door, but I think I get more pleasure out of them than anyone.

My son hates them. One came in the house a week or so ago and he nearly went berserk before I got hold of the chicken and put her out. He's demanded that I find some place else to feed them than out the back door. If I go outside, the entire carport is soon filled with chickens ­ and roosters and the odd duck or two and all the baby chickens and ducks.

And they make the strangest noises. Sometimes, I think the four-wheeler is being cranked. Sometimes I think someone is laughing. Sometimes it's just regular cackling and honking.

Sometimes, its a cacophony out there. And I love it. I can sit and listen to the hens cackling, the roosters crowing, the ducks making their odd duck noises, and I can just shut my mind off.

I find that if I sit and listen to the chickens that I don't have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I don't have to think about politics or diseases or any of the other terrible problems facing the entire world right now.

If you're having an anxiety attack you're invited to come sit in my carport and listen to the chickens. If you're feeling really bad, we can feed them. That guarantees a large, loud crowd.

It beats the heck out of human problems.

Holly Springs South Reporter

P.O. Box 278
Holly Springs, MS 38635
PH: (662) 252-4261
FAX: (662) 252-3388
www.southreporter.com

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