It is a regular summer morning. Just as FM is about to head to work, I check in on our free-ranging flock. There is a lot of noise this morning – with both roosters crowing and some of the hens begawking all at once. I peek inside the coop through the chicken door to see who is announcing their egg. There is Snowy Owl, lying on her back underneath the roost. I race around through the workshop to the other coop door. When I get to her, her feet and body are warm. Her eye focuses on me. I scoop her up, already awash in tears. Whatever happened JUST happened. Her neck is floppy and she doesn’t move as I cradle her in my arms. She dies soon after as FM and I are both trying to figure out what happened.
This is not the work of a predator. Initially, it looks like she broke her neck. With this new cockerel around, it isn’t unusual to have a panic in the coop and perhaps Snowy ran into a roost rung while trying to escape the chaos. But upon further inspection, there is no blood, no abrasions, nothing to indicate trauma like that. Could it have been a heart attack? A stroke? She was fine yesterday, free-ranging, laying her pretty blue egg and snuggling with me on the porch. How could she simply die this morning? Benedict is giving us a full report but, since we don’t speak ‘chicken’ and we have no webcam in the coop, we will never know.
The other hens are quiet now, perhaps confused or relieved. I leave Snowy Owl’s body on the porch for a while and each hen comes to inspect her – nudging her, growling low or circling her. Speedy sits beside her for a long while. This was her BFF, her partner in crime, her sidekick since they day they hatched. This death will be hard for me but it will be hardest for Speedy.
Snowy Owl was my girl. She would come to wherever I was standing and wait at my feet for her daily scoop. She loved to burrow her head deep into my jacket or sweater and then snooze in the warm darkness she found there. But truly it is Speedy who has lost her Bestie and will have to learn to carry on without her.
Keeping chickens gives me no end of pleasure but the pain of losing one is almost too much for me to bear.