I just want to get something off my chest. It's okay if no one even reads it.
Around 6 months ago, on December 13, 2012, I lost a beloved member of my flock, a red sexlink hen named Blizzy. Blizzy was very special to me, always into things and bawking about this or that. There was a level of communication I feel I had with her, as I could always rely on her responding to me if I spoke to her.
I guess I took for granted that she was still here. I had lost all of her sisters long before she went, mostly from egg-laying issues due to the super eggs they laid. When she fell ill, I was determined to do everything in my power to heal her, and yet I lost her anyway. She fell ill around the end of the school semester, and I suppose I was too busy to really do all I could have. I feel like if she had waited until just a little later, after classes were out for the winter, that she would still be here today.
After she was gone, my brother and I dug the hole to bury her in, right beside her late sister, Tyto. As we did, the rest of the flock slowly gathered around. I had never seen anything like this and I have yet to see it happen again. They didn't get in the way, didn't even try to scratch up the loose dirt that we were moving. They just watched.
In the following weeks, there were little things that would set me off. Opening the garage door, pouring water out of the dump cart, refilling the water buckets... These little things would just draw Blizzy in any time she heard them happening, and I was always having to remind myself that she was not going to come this time. She was gone.
About two months ago, as my mom was cleaning up in the dining room, I came across a zippered baggie filled with powdered chicken feed. I had run this feed through a food processor so that I could wet it down and syringe it directly into Blizzy's mouth. It was like I was losing her all over again, seeing that.
I came across her thread again last week and found myself sobbing over the fact that I couldn't remember how her voice sounded. What a tragedy, never again hearing that comical little "Bwaaaaak" that she always did! My heart breaks as I am reminded of this.
Even today, just typing this, I am in tears. I never thought it would be this hard to lose Blizzy. I have lost many hens in the past, and I have mourned for all of them for days, weeks, maybe even a month. Blizzy has been different. She was a standout member of my flock, nosy you might say, and she was literally always there whenever I was outside. She had survived against all odds, the last of her broodmates. I guess I was hoping for a few more years with her...
I remember that look in her eye on the day she passed away. Doubt still swims through my mind as I wonder if I had really seen what I thought I saw in her eyes, that tiredness, and the usual spark that those orange eyes had always contained fading away no matter how hard I fought. I will never be completely certain that I did right by Blizzy in the end, but I can at least say that she went peacefully, surrounded by the people who had loved her for all of her life. I hope she knew that day how much she was loved.
Around 6 months ago, on December 13, 2012, I lost a beloved member of my flock, a red sexlink hen named Blizzy. Blizzy was very special to me, always into things and bawking about this or that. There was a level of communication I feel I had with her, as I could always rely on her responding to me if I spoke to her.
I guess I took for granted that she was still here. I had lost all of her sisters long before she went, mostly from egg-laying issues due to the super eggs they laid. When she fell ill, I was determined to do everything in my power to heal her, and yet I lost her anyway. She fell ill around the end of the school semester, and I suppose I was too busy to really do all I could have. I feel like if she had waited until just a little later, after classes were out for the winter, that she would still be here today.
After she was gone, my brother and I dug the hole to bury her in, right beside her late sister, Tyto. As we did, the rest of the flock slowly gathered around. I had never seen anything like this and I have yet to see it happen again. They didn't get in the way, didn't even try to scratch up the loose dirt that we were moving. They just watched.
In the following weeks, there were little things that would set me off. Opening the garage door, pouring water out of the dump cart, refilling the water buckets... These little things would just draw Blizzy in any time she heard them happening, and I was always having to remind myself that she was not going to come this time. She was gone.
About two months ago, as my mom was cleaning up in the dining room, I came across a zippered baggie filled with powdered chicken feed. I had run this feed through a food processor so that I could wet it down and syringe it directly into Blizzy's mouth. It was like I was losing her all over again, seeing that.
I came across her thread again last week and found myself sobbing over the fact that I couldn't remember how her voice sounded. What a tragedy, never again hearing that comical little "Bwaaaaak" that she always did! My heart breaks as I am reminded of this.
Even today, just typing this, I am in tears. I never thought it would be this hard to lose Blizzy. I have lost many hens in the past, and I have mourned for all of them for days, weeks, maybe even a month. Blizzy has been different. She was a standout member of my flock, nosy you might say, and she was literally always there whenever I was outside. She had survived against all odds, the last of her broodmates. I guess I was hoping for a few more years with her...
I remember that look in her eye on the day she passed away. Doubt still swims through my mind as I wonder if I had really seen what I thought I saw in her eyes, that tiredness, and the usual spark that those orange eyes had always contained fading away no matter how hard I fought. I will never be completely certain that I did right by Blizzy in the end, but I can at least say that she went peacefully, surrounded by the people who had loved her for all of her life. I hope she knew that day how much she was loved.
