Deafness and Death

I read with great interest the small news item from the Journal of Neuroscience stating that if a person is immersed, or concentrating, on something visual, they may experience "inattentional deafness" and ignore someone speaking to them.  Just about everyone in my family suffers from this "inattentional deafness" - especially when reading, writing, or creating art.  I thought that most people suffered from it.  The distracting items that they tested people with were books, music, and video games.  I don't play video games, but I do read and listen to music and become deaf to other things in the world around me.
   Both of my parents became deaf when reading, and Dad did it when listening to operas, too.  Both I and my sister become lost in books we're reading, and we cannot listen to music with headphones or earbuds and operate machinery (for instance, driving a car).  We become a part of the story and/or a part of the music - and the rest of the world ceases to exist.  We become deaf and dumb and totally non-responsive, unless we are touched.  Being touched by someone, or something (a cat or dog tongue) will break the spell of immersion.  In a way, it's wonderful - one can escape from the world.  However, being able to escape so easily sometimes makes one avoid responsibilities.  I try to never do that, although I once did....
   I blogged about the death of Gladys, the Rhode Island Red hen the other week.  The owners of the hens and cats returned home Monday afternoon.  Tuesday evening, as it grew dark, Jan was puttering around the back of the garden, with the hens in close proximity - they were on the look-out for treats.  As it became quite dark, Jan led the hens back to the coop at the front of the garden.  Usually the hens are happy to hop inside once it's dark, but they didn't want to go in last night.  Jan closed the front door, which had been open all day, and picked the hens up and placed them, one by one, inside the main nesting box.   When she went out this morning and opened the front door, she expected the usual parade of clucking hens to appear.  She found, instead, Dagma, dead and covered in blood at the front threshold.  She opened the lower side door, and a huge raccoon ran past her, hissing.  She opened the top door and saw that all of the hens were dead.  She's going to give up chickens for a while....    And I can't blame her.....