Grad School Students

We're a very small group in the Psychology program, myself and five others. Four of us are women, the fifth is a man probably about my age but possibly older. His years have worn him harder than mine.

The youngest is in her early twenties, Catholic and very young (in every way). She's the most vocal, the most rambling and so painfully young in her responses. She's very much bleeding through emotionally from a bad marriage. She has no idea she's broadcasting what she is. The rest of us do, including the professors.

The oldest (I'm guessing) is a mother of four. She's almost 6 feet tall and built like a Valkyrie, though she's all laughter and grins. She works with teens involved in the juvenile system and those she'd like to keep out of it. From my days as a student teacher for emotionally disturbed teens, I can say with all certainty - we recognized each other at first meeting.

The next youngest to me is an African-American woman from the South, former Navy. She and I are the talkers, though I make it on time to class and she runs perpetually 1/2 hour behind. To say she brings light to the program is an understatement. Which isn't to say she's not bright, she's quick on her feet and with her wits. I look forward to seeing her sitting next to me.

The next youngest still is a young woman who is called to forensics and research. She is the "Queen of the Write In" and the professors have responded by adding a line under the multiple choice questions for her. She's a bit quieter, more introspective and as often as not, when she does speak it's profound.

The man is obviously former military. His haircut and bearing hasn't changed since retirement, he's so out of place in civilian clothes. He's the most conservative, having made the point to us early on. He sits just a bit apart from us. He's suffering through his values right now, fighting the counseling requirement to be open minded and non-judgmental. The rest of us are gently guiding him through this, we're holding firm while he squirms. At one point, he admitted he'd have trouble shaking hands with a gay man, given his background. My stern response was that there is never a righteous defense to dehumanizing another. He's been thinking since then, but when we meet gazes, he does smile in return. He's doing the work and we're there for him.

It's a good group and I'm privileged to be among them.

Poultry Report

Over the last few weeks, I've been giving the Rhodie hens a few minutes each day to interact with the chicks. At 2 months old today, they are quick enough to run away if need be and decently sized. Scarlett ignores them completely, Ruby has chased them away from the feed a few times but hasn't been violent.

Today the Rhodies decided they wanted back in the shed coop, so when I let them into the pen they dashed through the slot door and up into their loft. I was somewhat concerned when the largest chick, a Light Brahma, decided she wanted to see what was going on and climbed 1/2 way up the chicken ladder. Neither Rhodie reacted, so I stepped back and closed the door to watch from outside. The Rhodies sang their happy song, with just the slightest nervous twitter, so I left them to their assimilation.

I've gone to check on them a few times over the last few hours. So far, they all seem to have integrated together quite well. The Rhodies have stayed up in their cozy loft, the chicks down on the coop floor (or in their nesting boxes). A storm is coming in tonight, in fact if we make it to sunrise with power I'll be impressed. Knowing they are all together, tucked soundly in with their heat lamp and combined chicken body heat has balanced out my nervousness over the newness of the arrangement.

That said, I'm checking on them before I go to bed in a few minutes.

In ducky news, one of the Khaki Campbells (I think Lucy) has gone broody. She's built a little nest halfway under the shed coop where the dogs cannot get to her and where her brown plumage blends in perfectly to the background. The odds of her successfully hatching ducklings is practically null, sadly when she left the nest for a moment I felt the eggs and they were already cold. *sigh* I'll give her another day, then clean up the nest. Poor gal. She's been sneaking out of the pen at night, so I'd been somewhat suspicious.

Such is the life of a poultry handler.