We now have an empty chicken coop and run. Sigh. It is tough to lose animals, even if they are only farm animals and even if you’ve only had them a couple of months. This haiku explains my chicken-less feelings.
Saturday my wife Marnie told me: “I have some bad news. Two of our chickens are missing.” We went out to the chicken coop and run, which is inside of an old goat pen, and two of our four silkie chickens were gone. No feathers, no blood and guts, no body parts, no trace. They were just gone. There was a small hole in the outside chicken run and pen, so I thought MAYBE a weasel or, more likely, a racoon had gotten in and taken them. Lesson learned, so I patched up the hole, fed the remaining two, and locked up.
Yesterday afternoon I went out to feed the remaining two. I saw a trail of about a dozen feathers around the edge of the outside pen. Going to the coop, my worst fears were realized. No more chickens. At all. I have no idea WHERE the varmints got in to get them. I can’t see any holes or anything. But, whereever it happened … they’re gone. No more fun watching them scurry around after bugs. No more farm-fresh eggs. No more laughing at the silly silkies — Top Knot, Sable, Bertha and Blue Belle — fighting over feed.
Deeper Feelings
And, of course, I feel guilt. Why didn’t I check the pen better? Why didn’t I put in an electric fence? Why did I call off the dogs the other day when they were fighting with a racoon in our woods? I should have let them have their way with the varmint.
I also feel “less”. I’m less of a rural man than I was. Less of a farmer. Less of a healthy eater. Less of a provider. Less of a joy-giver to my wife. Less of a protector. Less off-the-grid. Less self-sustaining. Less of a country boy.
But mostly I just feel sorrow.
