Poor old Barbara. One of our original three chickens, the world always did seem a big and frightening place to her. She spent a lot of time standing around and thinking, or hiding under the coop. We always said she would be the first among them to pop her clogs.
And so she has done.
In fairness, I think she’d been feeling ill for a little while. Whether it was the very cold winter that chilled her, or the arrival of the three new chickens that scared her, I don’t know, but in the last two weeks of her life she was quieter than ever, and often stood for hours at a time with her eyes closed while the rest of the chicken world went on around her.
About a month ago we had to do some serious bum cleaning on her, wiping her down and clipping away some of her feathers. We didn’t know at the time that that was often a sign that the end was nigh.
When the end did come, she just fell asleep.
And then she fell on her side.
Poor girl. Her legs were sticking out at a very awkward angle, but at least she looked peaceful.
The other chickens spent a bit of time looking for her after Rich took her out of the compound, going up and down their ladder to see if she was in the coop.
She wasn’t, of course.
I think they’re over it now, though. They probably don’t remember her, but we won’t forget her. She laid some lovely eggs, and so was so docile that she was a great introduction to chicken-keeping.
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Oh, that’s too bad. How old was she?
A little under two years old. Not a long life, but at least she had an enormous compound to play in and wasn’t in a battery farm.
R.I.P Barbara. May you scratch the dirt to your heart’s content, in chicken heaven