And then there were 4

This is Henny.

Or should I say this WAS Henny.  I realize that this blog is getting a little crowded with chicken posts, but I want to add my two cents.  Henny, our oldest Easter Egger, died today.

We got Henny, and three other hens, back in the spring of 2009.  After reading a lot about city people like myself that were keeping chickens, I thought that I would give it a whirl.  I loved the idea of having fresh eggs and I knew that my kids would think they are great.  I was right on all of my assumptions.  Keeping chickens has been so fun, entertaining, and EASY.  Plus, they pay their keep by giving us fresh eggs every day.  The chicken poop all over our porch, well, that sucks.  But the eggs!  The eggs are great.  And that is why we keep them around.

Earlier this summer we lost a hen due to the heat.  I knew that it was bound to happen, Phoenix is hot.  I felt pretty awful when I found her because normally I check on them several times a day to make sure they are staying cool enough.  That day I didn't check on them until late afternoon.  I was nervous about telling the boys about the passing of one of our little pets.  When their response was, "Can we see her?!" I knew that they wouldn't miss her too much.  Tossing her in a bag and throwing her out with the trash felt weird to me, but I wasn't about to bury her.  With plenty more hot days in front of us, it was possible I could have holes all over my backyard with little memorials attached to them.  I thought that a bit excessive.  Later that night I was preparing chicken for dinner and E asked me if it was our dead chicken.

Being down one chicken meant that we had less eggs.  Not good.  I happened to come across someone who is trying to get rid of some easter eggers.  I called her up and tell her I will take two.  Phew.  Now we have five.  Plus the two new ones lay blue/green eggs.  I'm happy.

So, today the story was pretty much the same.  I am gone all day.  I didn't even check on them in the morning.  Later in the afternoon I go out to give them some scratch.  I see 4.  After a brief scan of the backyard, I knew.  I found Henny in the coop.  Most likely dead for hours.  I am puzzled because it isn't hot anymore.  I guess it was just her time.  After bagging her up and disposing of her, I went inside to break the news.  B sighed, asked why, and then went back to doing his homework.  E said, "Which one was Henny?"

When I was a young child, I didn't have the experience of having a pet die.  I remember worrying about it because I didn't want to miss them.  I suppose this is good practice for them.  Our English Mastiff is 9 and I am certain she doesn't have many years left.  I just hope that when I have to break that sad, sad news they don't ask me, "Which one was she?"