Okay, so friend might be pushing it.
She was just a chicken.
But she was my favorite one or one of my favorites,
and yesterday she met an untimely end.
My brother found a large pile of white and black feathers in the bottom pasture.
So, off we went in search of chickens.
Two were hiding in the branches of a large spruce tree,
2 were missing and one was presumed dead.
We confirmed that Squatch was dead when we found her body in the neighbor's field
relatively untouched.
There was no sign of Bertha or Martha Stewart who are the only remaining hens from my original 6.
We looked all over-
me clucking like a chicken-
but found no sign not even feathers.
I left for my meeting, my son crying, me with a lump in my throat
(don't judge I raised them from little chicks)
While I was at dinner I got a call.
My brother found the 2 missing hens and had returned them to their coop.
So R.I.P. Squatch
you're antics will be missed
(theory is that a dog got her as a fox is unlikely to leave a perfectly good dead chicken)
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