"Thunderous Tides"Moa, a Barred Plymouth Rock and also the boss hen of my flock, is tremendous in her girth. At times she is truly large beyond imagination, and is seen here emerging from the ocean. Don’t be jealous of her thunderous thighs!

The gulls are in no danger. She is too rotund to give chase.

Corel Painter, acrylic brush.

Have a mighty need for a print?


Until Wednesday, I was Nobody. Uncared for and unseen.

Until Wednesday, when the death truck spilled me onto the road in my plastic prison, when violence and death deafened all five senses, when brutal men tore apart my friends’ bodies while I watched and screamed: until then, I was Nobody.

And then. And then I became Somebody.

The moment kind hands pulled my broken body out of my twisted crate, the moment gentle arms cradled me and carried me to safety, the moment I was softly laid on the floor and given water: in that moment, I became Somebody.

For the last three days, my name was Mireya. It means miracle. For the last three days, I have felt more joy than I have felt my whole life. I have sat on the grass and felt its dew beneath my feet, its bitter taste on my tongue. I have felt the sun on my worn out wings, and its gentle warmth has rocked me to sleep. I have felt the excitement of delicious food, been fascinated by a worm, enjoyed the gentle sensation of having my face cleaned. I have been kissed and stroked, and I have felt loved.

Tonight, though, my broken body could take no more. Tonight, I peacefully passed away while my new human spilled tears of anguish and told me she loved me. Tonight I heard about Rainbow Bridge as my eyes closed for the last time and I drifted into deep darkness. I am not in pain now. Tonight, I am finally free.

I want you to remember me as Somebody. The next time you eat our butchered bodies or buy the eggs we laid in our metal prisons, I want you to remember that I was Somebody. We are all Somebody. You just don’t know our names.

Please share this far and wide. Help make Mireya’s life and death count for something.


Mildred, the young cochin hen, actually has a lot of growing to do. She’s a little under 8 months old now. She’s very mellow, gentle, and passive. Willow, the Easter Egger, has decided that Millie is HER BEST FRIEND.

Willow follows Millie.

Willow preens Millie.

Willow crawls uncomfortably under Millie at any opportunity.

Mildred, bless her cushion, tolerates this with all the kindness of a matronly pillow. “Oh, you are under me again. Well, that’s okay. My floof is here for you, dear one.”