It's cold and raining and the garbage trucks are clanking around outside. Betty the pullet died this morning. We didn't do the right things for her. I thought she was illin' yesterday but had to run off to a long long long clinic day with car repair thrown in and Deb was here. She tried to help by isolating her and talking to the chicken person about antibiotics and different food.
But.
We should have brought her into the house and warmed her up and made sure she was eating and drinking. So this morning I tried to do those things but it was too late. She was the moran, the chicken with dark brown eggs (she never laid any, still too young) and pretty black and grey feathers.
Shit. She was the littlest one and the one Lucy picked on. But she was growing and I thought she would be able to hold her own. She's wrapped in a towel and I go in and stroke her pretty feathers.
I let the other chickens out of their coop. They don't mind the rain, in fact they don't seem to notice. I threw them some greens from the garden and they're out there scratching and pecking.
Birds are different from other creatures. They're miniature dinosaurs.
4 comments:
Sorry about Betty.
I don't understand why my chicken stopped clucking
He's flat on the ground and I think he is dead.
We were going to go to dance rhumba this evening,
But now he is going to heaven instead.
from the net
Amazing how we get attached to our animals. Been there when my children were young. We dug graves for roosters, birds and rabbits.
They are indeed miniature dinosaurs, quite closely connected to the ancient ones.
I'm sorry about Betty. I hate it when I lose a chicken but it does happen and we mourn and then we go on.
Chickens don't mind the rain, do they?
Now go find you another hen.
Oh damn who knew it was going to be winter all damn summer long?
xo
Ellena-thanks for the poem! I shed a few tears and said goodbye.
Mary-Why, Betty, why? Can I just get another lone chicken and the flock won't freak out and harrass her?
RK-Right? Sheesh.
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