The Sad News

1:24 PM

My last blog post on here was a hint about this little lady. Not too much little about her, actually. She moved into our backyard two Saturdays ago and immediately we all fell in love with her. What? A chicken, you ask? Yes, I answer. A chicken. She made cute little cooing noises, strutted about our yard pecking things, and although Chad and Melissa had warned us that she might not be very sociable, she really was. If I squatted down and called sweetly to her, she trotted on over and let me pet her. The kids also got to pet her, which thrilled them to no end. Even Kyle warmed up to her. I knew this for a fact when I saw him grab his camera. And later saw him pet her. Hmm...

We named her Lucy Poulet. She laid an egg for me Sunday morning. I ate it and loved her for it. 

And here's where the story takes a turn for the worse. Chad had given me a coop that had worked fine for her at Chad's house, except its door was wonky. It didn't really attach securely. I made it work a few nights, but had plans to much more heavily secure her pen and create a little run for her. 

And here's where the story gets ugly. Monday morning, as I was making August's bed, I peered out his window and noticed the door to her coop open, lying on the ground beside her coop. This obviously did not  bode well. I abandoned the bed and dashed outside. Feathers everywhere. No chicken. 

Something had nabbed my chicken. And she'd only been with us for 2 whole days. I searched my whole yard multiple times and found no sign of her, other than the feathers. I cried. I was so sad. As silly as it may sound, I had bonded with her and I felt devastated. 

I think a fox or raccoon got to her. Even stranger still, the next day, out in the middle of the yard, her corpse appeared, as though whatever had taken her decided to give her back. I won't go into details, but I don't get very queasy and I almost threw up. Kyle handled the clean-up for me and he even promised me more chickens. But we both agreed priority one was a super tough, predator-proof coop. So I've been researching and making plans. God willing, Lucy Poulet will not be our last chicken. 

Enough tears. It's time for mustaches. 

A good fake mustache can fix almost anything.

Just about anything.

And small, crawling babies are also good at healing heartbreak.
Here, Tagg and Dorien play. Actually, I think Tagg is trying to escape from his larger, faster and more aggressive cousin.

Such a sweet, blue-eyed baby.

And is there anything better than siblings who love each other?

Only when your first-born, beautiful creature gets her face painted.

With a crudely drawn cat. That does nothing to diminish the loveliness of my little girl. 

So, I apologize for being Debbie Downer...and hope to lift your spirits further later this week with adorable pictures of my Brooklyn and August as flower girl and ring-bearer at a dear friend's wedding. Stay tuned.

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  1. I feel your pain as our baby chicks also met an untimely death! Check out the Shepherd Family on my blog roll. Mike built a rockin' chicken coop!

  2. That makes me so sad, too!