Chickies over the years
by Serena Scott
The first chick we ever lost was Ninja. I believe her name started out as 'Chicklet', actually, but she was the least social of our first flock, ran fast, and wore a black leg band, so ninja it was. She died suddenly while broody.
A while after her went Lief Erics-hen, a social chickie who demanded to be picked up and held every time someone went out into the yard at the threat of yelling, and climbed up on your shoulder when you let her perch on your arm. Sadly, she died of egg yolk peritonitis. She was a family favorite and will be missed.
Shortly after her Honey passed away of the same thing. She was a sweet, big hen known for trilling like a songbird instead of clucking. We've missed the music in our yard ever since.
Recently we lost the first out of our newer flock - Cream Puff, a friendly, poofy chicken who would climb into your lap for pettings and would probably stay there forever if you didn't make her move.
She wandered a yard too far and we got her back in a black garbage bag that smelled so badly of dog poop that we couldn't even bury her. She was my favorite of that flock, and I still miss her badly.
We know they don't live forever. We know they die due to predators, to reproductive disorders (they're bred for eggs, not longevity), even to things we have no clue about.
But it's so hard to raise a creature from tiny, peeping fluff to lovely bird, to feel the pride and wonder of seeing them in the yard for the first time or getting the first eggs, and then to watch them pass of things we can't always fix or prevent.
It's so hard to remember that we made them happy in the short time they had, and in our hearts they'll always be our little feathered babies.