Weeds, Hens, and the Cycle of Nature

by Sharon Kayne

I just left a bag of weeds on my neighbor’s porch. Lest you worry that my neighbor and I are having an ugly, passive-aggressive, snit over lawn care, let me reassure you: she wants my weeds. More specifically, her chickens want my weeds. And I only give her the kinds of weeds her hens like (wild mustard and henbit), placing all the unappetizing weeds in the trash. My neighbor likes them because they save her on chicken feed and they make her hens happy. And happy hens are happy egg layers. I like giving her my weeds because I love the idea that something that’s a nuisance to me is of value to someone else. Even better, her clever hens (even though their brains are no bigger than walnuts) can transform my unwanted weeds into delicious eggs. It’s the cycle of nature, and I like to play a small part in it.

It all helps me assuage my guilt about the horrendous way in which human beings are constantly screwing with the cycle of nature. Think about it: humans are the only living beings on the planet who create waste that is of no value to any other living being. With nature, one guy’s poo is someone else’s fertilizer. Not so with humans. I’m not referring to our poo, precisely. It’s the other noxious waste that we produce—think plastics and Styrofoam and other petrochemical products—that are not only of no value to other creatures but will probably kill us all. Even the stuff we create that will eventually break down into smaller bits—concrete, asphalt, and steal, for example—will never return to the earth in a way that’s terribly useful for other animals and plants. And the really nasty stuff we produce will never break back down into its component parts, let alone be biodegradable.

All animal-built habitation—from bee hives to bird nests and beaver dams—is biodegradable. Even if humans were to disappear from the face of the planet, we’d be leaving behind all sorts of crap that will forever be just that—crap. Sure, maybe our houses, skyscrapers, and highways would eventually crumble and be overcome by stubborn plants. But our petrochemical products will litter our land and choke our waterways forever.

Oh, sure, our discarded plastics will break down—they already do, creating the miasma of microplastics, which have already lowered our sperm counts, shrunken our penises, and added to our obesity. (Let me just say at this point that, as the stupidest most intelligent species on the planet, we get what we deserve!) I recently watched The Plastic Detox on Netflix, which informed me that each of our brains contains enough microplastics to create a spoon. And I wonder if that’s why I’ve been craving soup lately.

I’ve been trying to get plastics out of my life for a while now. Long ago I traded my plastic Noxzema jars for facial bar soap. I use Dropps detergent pods for my laundry and dishwasher. I replaced my plastic shower curtains with fabric ones (although they still contain petrochemicals). I stopped buying toothpaste in tubes in favor of Bite toothpaste bits. And I just started buying shampoo bars from the Good Store. Still, when it comes to my own plastic footprint on the planet, it’s a drop in the bucket. When it comes to the plastic footprint of the whole human race, it’s more like a nanodrop.

And, yeah, I know saving my weeds for my neighbor’s hens is also a nanodrop. But it is something I can do, so I’m going to do it, damn it. What’s more, I’m going to feel good about it.

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