Wednesday, February 22, 2012
R.I.P. All My Hens
The thing I didn't think possible happened last night. Fort Fox was breached and all the chickens slaughtered. I salvaged the bodies of the three young ones and spent the morning plucking, cleaning and eviscerating. Woglinde's first egg of the season came out intact (see below). The shell of Flosshilde's was too soft and it got scrambled in the poop chute. All that's left is a big pot of Brunhilde soup, a meal of Flosshilde au Vin and Woglinde is in the ice box for a later date. So tragic. We must rethink our defenses before getting more.
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4 comments:
Oh my goodness! That is terrible, I am so sorry to hear that! Your poor hens!
I'm very sorry, Miss Hathorne - I don't check your posts very often, and after reading about this event, I scrolled down and saw the "snowbound hens" photo. They certainly did have clever faces - and individual personalities too, I'm sure.
Thank you for your condolences. You are right that they had individual personalities and I'm missing them. They were very attentive to my every move in the garden, starting with the rattle of the back door handle and I liked being aware of them being aware of me. I will get more soon...
That cycle of awareness - it's a great thing between the species, isn't it? I liked your post about bee pollen and your healthy colony - I once heard a veteran beekeeper describing how his bees would sit quietly but interestedly on his shoulders, looking on as he attended to their hive.
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