Welcome to my "Mumblings and Musings" e-newsletter. This is where I let you know what's happening here at Summerhill Ranch and give you some information about upcoming events. (I'm so sorry if there seem to be a lot of newsletters lately...it won't be like this forever.)
I send you sparkling blessings and shimmering love!
~ Denise Linn
News from the Ranch ~ September 2009
KILLER CHICKEN!! (Okay, really just a frisky rooster!)
What do you have when a chicken crosses the road? Poultry in motion!!
"Your rooster attacked me!" said one of the participants at an Imagery Dance workshop that I was leading here at Summerhill Ranch. "He leaped into the air and flew at me!"
"Not Bogart!" I thought. Bogart (or 'Bogie' as we call him) is my sweetie. He is the latest addition to our chicken flock and so far, he's been very gentle with everyone.
Trying to assuage this woman, I said, "Maybe he was feeling a bit frisky and thought you were a female chicken . . . and he was courting you!" She seemed taken with this idea, so I hung my hat on it. "Yup," I said, " I bet he thought you were a cute chick, and he wanted to have his evil way with you!" We all laughed and forgot about it.
But then I wanted to find out the real reason why a seemingly gentle rooster would suddenly fly into attack mode. Here's why.
The Real Reason Why Roosters Attack
When a rooster meets you, he'll size you up. He'll decide that either you're another rooster (and then he is honor-bound to fight you!). Or he'll decide that you're not even close to being a rooster (in which case, he'll let you go in peace).
Evidently, the woman--with her brightly colored, flowered pants—fit into the rooster category. So rather than being an amorous encounter (as I'd suggested) it was a "Who's-Top-Rooster?" event.
The rooster has a very small brain, so if he decides that you are a rooster and he attacks, he figures there are two outcomes.
- He won! In which case, he'll act like he's king of the roost and will proudly prance around in a victorious way. (Plus, he'll expect you to act in a submissive way, as any self-respecting rooster would do after losing a fight.)
- He lost. In which case, he will act submissive . . . of course until he decides to call a rematch.
Bogart was doing a lot of strutting and crowing all afternoon, so he surely thought he was the champion.
Preventing Rooster Attacks and Biker Dudes Stand-Offs
While researching about pugnacious roosters, I found that that if one is starting to gear up for battle, but then he's offered some food, he'll usually hastily forget the confrontation and scramble for the food to share with his hens. This would fall into the 'Make Love, Not War" category. This 60's motto was my mantra yesterday.
David was out of town—and it'd been over a year since I had a day all to myself. All week I was waiting for my perfect day of stillness. But, by the dictates of Murphy's Law, my early morning serenity was shattered by the grinding, penetrating sound of what seemed like a million motorcycles. (Actually it was only about 50, but it sounded like a whole lot more.) In front of my house and blocking the driveway were lots of biker dudes (and dudettes) and their Harleys. Tables had been set up in our drive-way and there were lots of leather-clad, tattoo-toting people milling around.
"What the hell are you guys doing here?" I hollered. They barked back at me that that this was a motorcycle rally check-point and they'd be there all day. We had a bit of a stand off and I retreated into my home. I realized that I had two choices: I could righteously call the sheriff . . . and have everyone removed (which would generate lots of bad will). Or I could jump into the river and go with the flow. ("Make Love, Not War") It was kind of like a rooster deciding between food or a battle.
At first it wasn't an easy decision, but I finally grabbed four-dozen cookies from my pantry—as a peace offering—and went back to the horde. They backed down and apologized, explaining that they'd mistaken our home for a winery that's down the road—and even asked me to be their guest at their banquet. Good feelings flowed all around ... and I had a splendid (albeit noisy) day. So the moral is: When faced with a choice between battle or food . . . choose food!
Just kidding...the real moral is: Happiness is always a choice, no matter what's happening around you.
That's the news from Summerhill Ranch. Here's information about the on-going 28 week Ultimate Inner and Outer Clutter Clearing program. The results that folks are getting have been astounding!!! It's not too late to enroll! (see below)
Also, I'm getting really excited about the I Can Do It Conference in November at Tampa, Florida. The energy is so bright and sparkling! I'm doing a pre-conference on Friday (*with lots of powerful processes) as well as a talk on Sunday. I hope to see you there. (see below)
All my love..always and forever!!