I went out to the barn today and found one of my five hens dead. She had been pecked to death. I had noticed this, but had done what I was told to do. Separate her and what not. By the time I saw the blood, it was too late. She was dead. I remember every morning, when I went into the pen, that hen would run to me and look at me. She knew I had a treat. I wish I had been more careful, and now I am kicking my self for not taking action sooner. I was very sad to see her go, but I guess it is life.
