Today when I got home from picking up the boy, I decided to check on the chickens like I always do. All was quiet, and I thought nothing of it. The wind had blown the coop (actually a converted camper-trailer) door shut.
Momma Red and her chicks were huddled inside, tucked in a hollow that was once under the dinette table. I thought it a little strange that they were all hiding so quietly, but whatever.
It all made sense when I went outside and saw this sharp-shinned hawk:
I took those pictures and thought about how lovely that hawk was. Then the implication of the hawk set in. No wonder the hen and chicks were hiding. No wonder it was so quiet.
Then I remembered Forrest. Forrest is a hen of ours that we hatched from an egg from an ameraucana hen. Forrest has leg issues and can’t walk well. She usually hides under the trailer. But she wasn’t there. Nor was she in the trailer.
I spotted her a few moments later struggling in a bush nearby. I’d post a picture, but it’s not too pretty. I assume the hawk got at her, yet Forrest still lives. She’s a resilient little bird. Alas, I think this may be the end of her. We’ll have to see how she’s doing in the morning.
It makes me sad, because I’ve worked so hard to give her a decent life, with easy access to food and water, and soft bedding to sleep in because she can’t perch. She’s one of the few birds that will let me carry her around and love on her like a pet.
Maybe it’s my fault for giving her a name and trying to save her despite her deformity. She’s a farm animal. I shouldn’t get attached. Whatever.
I’ll be sad when she goes, whenever that may be.
Penny Higgins - Storyteller • Artist • Scientist 