At the end of a very long day, right before bedtime, during chicken chores
our hen, Harry, was discovered stumbling around the chicken yard eyes half closed.
There were a few other symptoms. Listen, you don’t want to know.
All the others looking perky and not particularly perturbed by their pals illness where cooped up for the night.
Children scuttled inside.
Books perused in that fluttery panic.
Everything seemed fine earlier? Yes. Everyone else looks fine? Yes.
Wrangled bedtime with a weeping toddler and an accusing eight year old.
Remember that story we read today? We need to treat these chickens like gold. It’s only fair.
Husband prepared to run out to the pharmacy for Harry but too late.
Goodbye dear friend.
We are still within the normal range of chicken loss due to injury and possible illness.
I can say it still feels like junk to lose them.