Hello. You might remember me, but I haven't on here for a few months and I don't know how many older members of the site have come and gone, but I used to host the Best Breed Contest, a fun little tournament where we tried to decide which out of 4 chicken breeds was the fan favorite. If you were wondering if there was a reason I came back then you would be right, I've come to tell a story. However this story doesn't have a happy ending, I'd love it if you could and listen but I wouldn't blame you if you left now, so with that out of the way, let's get started. It was a beautiful spring day, the sky was a bright blue, the grass was fresh and petals from crab apple trees were coating the ground as the scent of damp soil wafted through the warm breeze. I got a call from the post office saying my baby chicks had arrived, I picked them up from the post office and returned home as I opened the box in excitement to find 4 beautiful baby chicks inside. I dipped their beaks and set them up in their new home. During the following weeks, I was expecting one to die, as they randomly do in their fragile youth, however by some miracle none of them died, I was happy I didn't have to say goodbye to one so soon. Around that time I was constantly feeling depressed but spending some time with my baby chicks made me feel hopeful, like life wasn't going to continue being a garbage disaster, I've had chickens since I was really young and I've always wanted to hold one and I always used to try but I always failed, so I handled my baby chicks every day in hopes that they'd warm up to me. Fast forward a couple months and these baby chicks have grown up into full fledged salmon faverolles, all of them were great but one stood out, none of them had a name at the time, but this chicken had the biggest beard, the fluffiest coat, but most importantly, she was the friendliest out of the bunch, she let me pick her up and she loved pets as the others would run away when I tried to pick them up and they weren't too fond of pets, I loved to pick her up and feed her and the rest of the gang treats, my family liked the name Valentine, and it started to stick. One day, Valentine waited on my porch for me to arrive, her comb looked cold and dry so I got her inside as she waited in the bathroom while I looked for some vasiline, when I found it I put some on her comb, for some weird reason I put her on my lap as I watched TV, it was like fate because, that was the last time I held her in my arms. I was rather busy so I didn't get to spend much time with them, but when I did get the time it was already too late, when I got home I found out she was killed by hawk. It was like her flashed before my eyes and I was plunged into a pit of depression and anger, I've been in denial for the last few days and it's really starting to sink in that I'll never see her again. This was what she looked like. I just needed to get that off my chest, and thanks for listening.