There’s a decapitated chicken in my freezer, tears in my eyes, and blood on my husband’s jeans.
One of my little chickens has been sick lately, and as much as I had hoped she would perk up again, it has not happened. When I saw her this morning, staggering in circles, I knew she had crossed the line into “suffering”. The decision was mine, and only mine, to make.
It’s a hard decision, to effectively order an execution, but it was made out of love and mercy. Watching a small creature suffering simply breaks my heart, especially when I have taken on the responsibility of looking after them.
While I could do the deed myself if I had to, I married a lovely, strong, kind-hearted man who probably felt it was easier to do it himself than deal with me crying for the next 3 days. By doing it himself, I only cry for an evening (and every time I open the freezer between now and rubbish day).
I’m going to be a complete girl about this and use this blog to say goodbye to my lovely little ginger friend. Thank you for all the wonderful eggs. Thank you for doing all the weeding. Thank you for the fertiliser. Thank you for eating all the bad bugs in my garden. Thank you for posing for so many photos to go with my Pullet-zer Prize winning chicken articles.
May you rest in peace and enjoy free-ranging in God’s garden.
Cemetery photo by Anna-Louise from Pexels