Last Wednesday as I did my chore of letting our chickens "free range" for two hours, I noticed my favorite hen, Betty, was very weak. She stood in the middle of the road(no "crossing the road" jokes please) with her eyes closed and struggling to breathe. I continued to watch her closely as some of the other chickens just passed her by. The day ended with Betty hobbling back in the coup.
Now Betty is special because she bonded with us humans. She was smaller and weaker that the other chickens as well as older. She hung around the barn always curious about what was inside. She may have been the oldest chicken we had.
On Thursday, Mike brought me the news that Betty had died during his watch of the "free ranging". Betty had struggled to breathe again and Mike stroked her head as she was dying. Before she did die our barn cat Sarah came over to Betty and watched as she took her last breathe. Mike and I said some words of care and compassion for our fowl friend of another species as we buried her in the hills behind our house.
Betty is obviously missing each day when we let out the chickens. She was one of the faithful hens who would not run away when I held my "Chicken Concerts" each week. Thank you Betty for making us laugh and watch your life unfold.
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