Rest in peace, little GH and E. You were much beloved hens. I will dearly miss your clucking about at my feet, the way you run towards me in the mornings for your feed, with your fluff swaying back and forth comically, begging for bits of cheese or bread or half eaten ears of corn. Eloise, adventurous little lacy wyandotte, you were a spitfire from the night we brought you home, managing to clear over a 6 foot fence (twice) in the first 24 hours, and Georgina Henrietta – sweet and faithful, downright affectionate, and beautifully golden, you almost never failed to lay an egg. I’m glad that I think you both had happy (if not tragically short) little lives, ranging freely in the backyard, turning up soil and leaves, snacking on worms and bugs and stretching your legs in the sun as all chickens should. You taught me a lot about raising hens, growing my own food, knowing where my food comes from, and the importance of having happy chickens in this world.
I hope there’s such a place as Hen Heaven, and I hope you’re there now, with nothing but sunlight, plenty of crawfish tails and spicy corn, and miles and miles of fresh bedding on which to lay your eggs.