The evening started out like any other...
I planted some flowers when I got home, it was a beautiful day. Towards dusk, I headed down to the compost pile with some kitchen toss-outs. I took a couple of scrambled eggs with me, to toss in the chicken's run. They were happily pecking about on their flock block- just like they do every evening. After depositing my things in the pile, I went over to the run.
That's when I noticed something was horribly wrong....
Soupie, my BR pullet was missing the top portion of her beak. Not part of it, all of it. Just.... gone. It looked exactly like this. I searched and searched, and couldn't find any blood or the missing beak. To my best assumption, she caught it on the hardwire cloth, and tore it off.
So I did all I could think to do, and called my father to come over and cull her. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.
I had planned on cleaning her and making her live up to her name after the deed was done, but I burried her instead. Once again, I couldn't do it.
So Soupie is gone now, and the (mean) rooster is all alone again. She makes the third loss this year. The two older hens had stopped laying over the winter. One I found dead under the roost one morning, the other died while I was sleeping from work one afternoon. But, I got them as older birds, so I know they died peacefully of old age.
Rest in peace, my dear Soupie...
I planted some flowers when I got home, it was a beautiful day. Towards dusk, I headed down to the compost pile with some kitchen toss-outs. I took a couple of scrambled eggs with me, to toss in the chicken's run. They were happily pecking about on their flock block- just like they do every evening. After depositing my things in the pile, I went over to the run.
That's when I noticed something was horribly wrong....
Soupie, my BR pullet was missing the top portion of her beak. Not part of it, all of it. Just.... gone. It looked exactly like this. I searched and searched, and couldn't find any blood or the missing beak. To my best assumption, she caught it on the hardwire cloth, and tore it off.
So I did all I could think to do, and called my father to come over and cull her. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.
So Soupie is gone now, and the (mean) rooster is all alone again. She makes the third loss this year. The two older hens had stopped laying over the winter. One I found dead under the roost one morning, the other died while I was sleeping from work one afternoon. But, I got them as older birds, so I know they died peacefully of old age.
Rest in peace, my dear Soupie...
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