Chicken Love

The chickens were making an awful racket. We were busy chalk drawing numbers and letters and trees and animals on the back porch at 7:30 a.m.. Amelia went to check on them and reported that one looked hurt. Well, dead actually. We've had chickens for five years now. We have raised them from babies and slaughtered them. We have raised them from babies and collected eggs from them. When their lives are formulated and function as we've planned, we roll on with daily feedings, collectings, chasings. Well, when they die and it looks painful, when we don't know why, when it is one we've had for ages it is not the same.

She was a faithful layer and a good hen. I get choked up and confused and curious and so sad. Before it gets to hot, we will bury her. I am sad.


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