Have You Been to Jail for Justice?

Some say Dr. King or Gandhi
Set them on their way
No matter who your mentors are
It’s pretty plain to see
That if you’ve been to jail for justice
You’re in good company

We have always admired those who cannot abide injustice.  Sometimes it is not a particularly practical point of view – Steve Biko, Medgar Evers, Mahatma Gandhi, Antoinette Brown, Henry David Thoreau, Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Lech Walesa, Susan B. Anthony, and the guy who stood in front of the tank in Tiananmen Square all come to mind as people who were not made comfortable as a consequence of their brave actions.  But jail is, in some cases, not as bad an option as it is in others.

Even in the aforementioned list, there is an opportunity for discernment – some of those people were assassinated; others merely spent some time in the pokey, and then went on their merry ways, often to the joy and great benefit of the literary world.  But they all spent time facing down authority figures who were, in material terms, much more powerful than themselves.

Gandhi spoke of satyagraha, or “Soul force”, as the causal agent of his own effectiveness.  He argued that no matter how meek or humble the actor, satyagraha makes the meek and humble far more powerful than the high and mighty.

Nowhere is that more evident than in our chicken coop. 

The term ‘Pecking Order’ is not a misnomer.  Chickens maintain their social structure through a vicious ordeal of constant pecking, and it is not always pretty.  Sometimes it can be downright mean, particularly if there is a rooster, or worse still, more than one rooster, in the flock.

We don’t have roosters, but we still have a pecking order.

On the bottom rung of that social ladder sits Bombarella, first in girth, but last in standing.  She is constantly belittled by the other birds for her matronly qualities – she is a “broodie”.  She sits on the daily take of eggs, and would dearly love to hatch them.  It ain’t happenin’, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting to be a mother.  When she sits too long… the other girls start pecking her, telling her to conform, to get out of the box, to start being a “normal” chicken.

And she just takes it.  She’s last in line for everything as a consequence.

We wondered what would happen to this social order when we added new chicks to the flock, and now we have found out.  Bombarella has been to jail for justice; she has satyagraha to spare.
When they were about four weeks old, we moved the four baby chicks to the enclosure you see here, inside the larger coop.  They are getting used to their new environment, on the deep bed of leaves, and without artificial lighting at night.  We have perches for them, and in every respect, they are in a miniature version of the larger coop.  But the resemblance between this setup and the apartheid regimes of nations who believe in ridiculous notions like “separate but equal” cannot help but be noticed.

And the sense of social justice is about on a par with those backwards regimes, as well.

We have had to double-wrap the enclosure with chicken wire to keep the babies from sticking their heads out, where they would surely be pecked so hard we could not guarantee their safety.

And we’ve got one tunneller who has discovered, to her chagrin, that she is not yet welcome in the larger flock.

Enter Bombarella.

She of the bottom rung, the humblest of our birds, who will not fight back on her own behalf, is sheer terror on those who would attack the babies, throwing herself headlong between any would-be marauders and the defenseless chicks.  We could not be prouder of her, though we have to sadly shake our heads at the ironic thought that in a few months, when the youngsters have matured, they will probably pass her by in the pecking order, leaving her even farther down the ladder than she was before.

Still, history will record that, for one bright shining moment, one small voice for justice could be heard despite the four walls of her cage.  Bombarella, you rock, my friend!  We’ll pass you some extra grubworms when the other girls aren’t looking.