Blessed are the Meek

My little lame chick is gone. (see No Ordinary Love, Dec. 7/17)  She died last December, but I only recently found out about it.  We shared a special connection for a brief, beautiful time in the Amazon rainforest of Peru.  She was one of the guiding spirits who helped heal me at an ayahuasca retreat I attended there in November. 

There were two animals  that stayed at the retreat. One of them was Tyson, an orphaned young wooley monkey, and the other was my chick without a name.  Victoria, one of the co-owners of the retreat, brought both animals with her to stay at the retreat.  Tyson is Victoria's animal companion, and the little chick was brought along because she needed extra care due to a badly deformed foot which caused her to limp. 
After a week in the rainforest, all of us returned down river to Victoria's home in the village of Shintuya, where I waited with Jessica, my guide and ayuasquera, for our driver to pick us up and take us on the long journey back to Cusco.  We sat in the back lot of Victoria's home with numerous chickens that Victoria raises.  They wandered freely around the property, clucking and pecking to their hearts' content.  The little lame chick joined them for a while, but when I came and sat down at the picnic table, she hunkered right up next to me, leaning against my foot.  She was so light and small I barely felt the gentle pressure of her body on my shoe.  I didn't dare move because I wanted her to stay there as I listened to Jessica spin a magical tale about how she was called to perform ayahuasca ceremonies in the Amazon.  Eventually the chick jumped up on the bench and stuck right by me.  I knew this wasn't normal behaviour for chickens that are being raised for eggs or meat.  But she wasn't an ordinary chicken.  She had another purpose in this world, and I know that it was to teach and heal me. My little lame one was most surely an animal angel.  And in case you're thinking that I'm off on an unfounded flight of fancy regarding messages and signs, Tyson proved she was no ordinary chick, too. 

While she sat next to me on the bench, Tyson joined us as well.  When the chick jumped down on the ground to greet him, he immediately scooped her up in his long, dangling arms.  The chick offered no resistance as he cuddled and embraced her.  They became a single unit of twisted arms and wings enfolded around each other.  It was touching to see such precious inter-species bonding.  
I was fully aware why the chick was being raised by Victoria, and made no judgement.  I saw many small animals and birds being raised for the same purpose, and they were healthy and free.  The term free-range doesn't even begin to describe how well they lived.  They roamed as freely on the same property as the humans that fed them, and were able to avail themselves of the entire rainforest if they wanted.
When I saw how Tyson cared for the little chick, I worried that he might miss her if she went the way of the other birds.  I mentioned this to Jessica, who said she would pass my concerns onto Victoria.  But alas, it never came to that anyway.
A few weeks after my visit to Peru, my little chick was caught and eaten by a tayra, an Amazonian weasel who invaded the chicken enclosure on Victoria's property.  I'm sure she was the easiest of prey for the weasel to capture, considering how lame she was.
I cried when Jessica informed me of my sweet chick's demise, but I also understood that it's part of the cycle of life, especially in the wild.  The weasel needed to eat, too.  But I loved that little bird, and I know that a large part of the reason for her existence was to help me, and she certainly did.  I needed stability and grounding, which I found in Peru, where a plethora of plant and animal spirits abide.  

I'm pretty sure it was never meant for my chick to live a long life.  A couple of the many attributes of the chicken as a spirit guide are sacrifice and resurrection.  She made the kind of sacrifice that has created at least one major religion, and saved many of its believers. But my animal angel was a lowly  chicken, and the only person she helped save was me.   
Although there are a multitude of magnificent Amazonian birds and animals, none could have taught me better. 
Chickens are flightless, common birds.  They can flap and flutter a few feet up in the air, but earth is their element.  My little lame chick, by her very nature, was grounded and humble.  I learned the same lessons of grounding and humility from Grandmother Ayahuasca during ceremony.   
Both spirits brought me down to earth.  However, it must be said that I had a much softer landing with my chick than I did with Grandmother.  That's just as it should be, because Grandmother is the matriarch of all plant spirits in the Amazon.  The little chick's role in my healing was as Grandmother's teaching assistant, and she performed it perfectly. 
My little chick's short life was not without meaning and purpose.  She taught me by her example, and healed me with her presence.  If that doesn't make her a spirit guide, then I don't know what does.  I honour her memory by carrying  her teachings with me for the rest of my life. 
So mote it be.
g.p.