And Then There Were Six

We lost another chicken last night. Apparently Pookie went to bed outside of the coop. When Dave went out to tuck them in (read-shut the coop door), he couldn't find Pookie. After returning with a head lamp he found her. I don't know what likes to eat chickens around here. The last chicken that got eaten was almost completely devoured. This time not so much. Maybe Dave scared the predator from it's prey. Who knows! I am thinking that is was a possum, raccoon or a weasel. I hope that it had a good meal and doesn't return.

Poor Pookie. She had always not quite belonged. After a brief hawk attack a couple of weeks ago in which a few tail feathers were lost, I thought that she was sticking closer to the gang. I guess not. We'll miss you Pookie! The girls already do. I awoke to them calling and cackling together this morning. It sounded like they were having church, but in a testifying chicken sort of a way.

It is never easy to lose a chicken, but somehow the pain is a bit less with each one that passes. I can't beat myself up with "what ifs". Surprisingly there are many. They are chickens. They live in nature. We don't want to keep them cooped up all of the time. That is the point of free range! This might be the price that we pay every now and then. We won't stop keeping chickens. We love them too much. Their eggs are delicious and their ways relaxing. To watch them peck and scratch is a lot of fun. When they fight to eat out my hand, I am always awed.

Rest in peace Pookie. We'll see you where the grass is always greener.