A Chicken Keeper’s Grief & Loss: 2

It’s been just shy of a year since I posted a collection of stories about the impacts of losing a member of our flock. Unfortunately there is no shortage of sad endings, some expected and others sudden and inexplicable, that touch us deeply.

Not everyone can relate to the grief that some feel over the death of a chicken – even other chicken keepers who see their birds as livestock, meaning an animal that has a purpose in serving their owner and it would be a bit unseemly to shed tears over something you could replace for just a few dollars. Clearly, they are not my people, though I respect that not everyone bonds to their birds as they might the family dog or cat.

Those stories resonated with my readers and I’m committed to continuing to hold space for them. Grief is something we all must bear as individuals, but that load is lightened when shared with others who understand and empathize with our loss.

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Angela Kuczmarski

My Bubbles is gone. 7½ years and the last of my original chickens.

I’m so glad that I gave her babies to raise as she went broody every year like clockwork.

Her decline was gradual. She stopped roosting years ago and started having a rough time with the ramp. This year I had to carry her in and out of the coop and the last three months she was living inside with us. The last week she had trouble grabbing her food. I made a concoction that would be easy for her to grasp and gulp down. I was laying with her yesterday knowing that her time was close. She ate one bite of fresh raspberry and then she passed away in my arms. I hope that she knows how much she has been loved. I hope that she’s with her sisters again. I miss the warbles she’d greet me with in the morning.

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Jaime Williams-Messaros

Unfortunately, Gretchen passed away in my arms this morning. I’m fortunate in that I got to say goodbye and tell her how special she was. In the past when I’ve lost chickens I haven’t always had that chance. Gretchen was one of my original four and the one that I was most closely bonded with. She would always follow me around the coop and the pen chatting with me the entire time. She loved looking at herself on the camera so much that I used to call her Gretchen The Selfie Queen. Whenever there was an argument between hens or somebody knocked over a nesting box and I asked, “Who did this?” or “What are we fighting about?” Gretchen would always be the first one right there, clucking as if telling me what was going on and who was responsible. Some losses hit harder than others and this is definitely one that’s hit hard. I’m just very thankful that she’s no longer suffering. As I watched her struggle to take her last few breaths I told her that it was okay to let go and that her sister Cady was waiting. I know she’s in a better place.

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Brenda Jean Wyatt

It’s so hard sometimes to fight depression when you have chickens. I know we don’t talk about it much, but tonight I’m staying up with Charlie, as this will be her last night with us. She lost her rooster a few weeks back and wasn’t accepted by the flock rooster. I had noticed her decline as she started to pull away from all the flocks, young and old, and tried to get her hens around her age but they blended away and she never tried.

She always hopped on my shoulder when I’d come into the coop, and yesterday she didn’t even come out. When I went to find her, I could just read it all over her, she was done. I brought her into the medical pop-up tent and kept her hydrated but she refused to eat. Today, she just laid with me all day. I tried to feed her all her favorite treats but nothing. I gave her vitamins and electrolytes until she began refusing them.

Now it’s just me and her, laying on the couch; I’m going to miss my beautiful girl

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Jenna Whelan

Last night I had to have my sweet girl euthanized. She had a tumour for over a year but in the past two weeks she rapidly declined and it was the best decision for her. I will never knowingly let my animals suffer, just to spend more time with them, although it doesn’t make it any easier.

I will miss her so much. She was my best friend. I know a lot of people don’t understand – so I wanted to share somewhere where others will.  

When I was saying my goodbyes I had my hand under her chin and she pulled my hand in and closed her eyes and I knew she was telling me it was going to be okay and she was ready. My heart is broken but I know it was for the best. Rest easy, my sweet Layla.

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Michelle Dianne Bispo

That was my son’s chicken. He could always fall asleep like that only in my son’s arms. Sadly Chick Chick crossed the rainbow bridge last year. We miss him so much.

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Aryana Atiq

Today at dawn my only chicken baby, a rooster passed away. I miss him so much, it feels unreal. I will never be able to hold anything like him ever again. I hope I don’t forget the feel of his huge comb and wattles. There’s probably nothing in this world that I have said so many “love yous” to, or gave so many kisses. I will never feel the warmth of such a big feathery body.

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Beverly Morisey Palibroda

Beautiful Georgia and Delilah were inseparable. We raised them in the house from tiny poults and they joined the chickens, first as awkward teens, but soon grew to be watchful flock protectors. Both girls were very emotional and exuberant in all they did. They loved us boldly, and made beautiful sounds of greeting and affection; they flirted terribly with guests to the farm and everyone laughed at their outgoing and friendly ways. Both girls, but especially Delilah loved cuddling and hugging and awkwardly clambered onto our laps if we sat down in the yard. Their silly jokes and sense of humour were both charming and annoying as they pulled off and tossed toques, grabbed at sunglasses or stood proudly atop shiny trucks. They had one bad habit of wandering afar to make nests and for four years I was able to track them down and bring them back to the coop. They would change hiding spots but I would search the farm for the new spot. This hide and seek eventually broke my heart and I still miss them very much.

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Shannon Briggs

We bury our losses in our orchard so they can live on by nourishing the trees and we can think of them when we are enjoying a particular tree or shrub.

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Maddy Bates

Yesterday when I booked my girl’s euthanasia appointment we did all her favourite thing. We ate watermelon and bread, we went and sat in her favourite spot looking out at the trees and mountains and had lots of cuddles. I told her that it was okay if she wanted to go on her own terms before her appointment. She heard that and understood.  She just passed at home, nice and warm in a blanket and hot water bottle, with me right beside her at 2:20am. Just before her last breath she looked up at me, then went.

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Scott Weikel

When we first got chickens last April I asked my friend who runs a farm for advice. The first thing she said is “chickens die”. We lost our first one. When my father, mother and brother passed away, I didn’t cry. Today I cried my eyes out over a $3.50 hen just now. This from a guy who fought for three years against getting them.

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Jessica Claybrook

This picture breaks my heart. We had an accident over the weekend (we were out of town) and a coon killed seven of our chickens including both of my beautiful roosters. Five of the birds were all brand new to the flock this past spring. We are all devastated and poor Addy, I don’t even know how to console her, as her heart is broken. We found the piles of feathers in various spots of the yard and she found the ones for Midnight, our last Easter Egger. She was the sweetest of our oldest birds and Addy’s favorite. As I was checking the rest of our perimeter I came around the corner to her just sitting and crying. We have four of our girls left but to say we are shattered doesn’t come close.

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Cheryl Taft

Only my chicken family would understand why we skipped our anniversary dinner to spend time with our dying chicken.

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Grumpy Chickens

Goodbye to the toughest old girl I think I’ve ever known. She was named appropriately after my own mother, another tough old girl. Sharon fought hard and enjoyed another summer and fall that I never thought she would see. But she decided that she didn’t have another winter in her.

Tuesday evening she really wanted to go run around the yard but the grass was just long enough that it grabbed at her weak legs and she struggled to stay upright. So I did what any good friend would do. I picked her up and wrapped her in a blanket and we walked around the yard. We looked across the road and she saw the now bare field that they stripped last week. She was able to see that she hadn’t missed anything by not being allowed to go over there. We checked out the ravine and she saw the small apple trees that are starting to take hold. We went to the very back of the yard to look at the mulch pile that the young girls have been working on. I’m pretty sure she muttered something about the younger generation and lazy asses. In her prime, Sharon would have had that pile distributed across the yard all on her own by now. We checked out the vegetable garden and all of the limp plants that need pulling and she was able to see for herself that there was no yummy treats left to be had. Then we sat in the doorway of the coop and she gave me a look that can only be described as a goodbye.

This morning she was still pecking the other girls away from her breakfast. Tonight my hubby met me in the driveway and I knew from his look that she had gone. Your girls will miss you Sharon. Rest in peace.

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Seleta Nothnagel

Three days after Honey died I spent all blessed day scrubbing the barn. First, I vacuumed the barn countertops and floors. Then I scrubbed the concrete floors with a stiff bristle brush until there was no trace of biological materials. Finally, I set a timer for 20 minutes, made my bleach solution and mopped the floors repeatedly to keep them wet for the entire contact time necessary to kill the ILT. I also wiped down the walls, countertops, trash cans, and everything inside the barn with bleach solution for the required contact time. I also cried. I wasn’t crying because the bleach burned my eyes or because I was hot and tired from having to intensely clean the barn.

I was crying because scrubbing the barn felt like I was trying to remove all memory of Honey. I scrubbed the folding chair where I had sat and given her all of her treatments and also snuggled her and stroked her soft feathers. I scrubbed the floor where she had broken an egg she laid and eaten most of the contents, the first thing she had willingly eaten in a few days. I scrubbed the wall next to her bed where she laid, since she didn’t have the strength to get on the roosting bar. I threw away the cardboard box that she laid her first egg in after arriving home. I bagged up the bedding she slept on and the towel that was in the bottom of the nebulization chamber. I vacuumed up the pile of sunflower seeds I offered her, trying to get her to eat something. I vacuumed up the downy feathers that made her so soft and fluffy. And I cried. 

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Many thanks to everyone who shared their stories and photos. Featured photo credit: Janie Edens

If you have a story you’d like to share drop me a line by using the ‘contact’ button on my homepage.