I don’t really want to write about this, but I need to. We have lost our first feather child. It happened while we were away on holiday. And it was my beloved Strider. Why did it have to be Strider? She was my favourite and she was the best. I’m not exactly sure what happened. The other two are fine. I feel terrible because firstly, if I had been there I might have been able to prevent her death since I’m used to watching the chickens’ behaviours, and secondly, because The Sister-in-law, who was looking after them, had to deal with it and bury her. Oh, what a hideous tragedy! I don’t really want to talk about it anymore and I’m trying to move on.
The same day I found out I set about making a plan of action on what to do. That’s my logical side kicking in. We needed to get more chickens. Mostly, because you can’t have just two hens; poor Frodo down the bottom of the pecking order would get picked on by Sam all the time if there was no-one else to focus any attention on. Also, the egg production situation was going to get dire. Plans for getting fertilised eggs to hatch went out the window. I ordered two barred Plymouth Rock pullets from the lady I got the others from. That’s what Strider was and I wanted more of the same. I know they won’t replace her but I hope they will be great chickens too. The lady had very few pullets left so my timing was good. We will keep them keep them in a pen next to Frodo and Sam until they get big enough to hold their own. We are picking them up tomorrow.
Goodbye, Strider. I will miss you, feather child.