A Chicken Keeper’s Grief & Loss: 4

This is the fifth post in a series 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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Goodbye Dumbo. I came home from work today around 5:30 pm. I saw Dumbo outside the chicken run and she walked towards me and made some noises as if she was talking to me. I asked her why she was outside. She followed me to the chicken run but she was so slow. I carried her in my arms. I was planning to put her inside the coop but I decided to bring her inside the house. I massaged her back and talked to her while on our way. As soon as I stepped on our porch, she was gasping for air and I knew she was dying. Moments later, she died in my arms. It looked like she was just waiting for me to come home so I could hold her for the last time.

I knew this time would come because of her age. She would have been nine years old this March. She had been weak for days and very slow. Dumbo was still able to join the other chickens when we let them out. I could tell that she was having a hard time and I prepared myself for the moment. Still, it hurts. I never expected that the moment of her departure would be special. When most of our chickens died we just found them dead (either attacked by animals or sudden death) without a goodbye.

She will always be our “Big Dumbo”. She was an Australorp and produced big brown eggs. She was resistant and maintained her beautiful feathers when other chickens were moulting. She was the last standing chicken in our first batch of chicks. Dumbo was very mild and friendly towards other chickens. It has been great to have her around and have memories with her. 

We put Dumbo in her final resting place. She buried next to our lemon tree that is almost the same age as her. The lemon tree was planted from seed at the same time we got Dumbo as a chick. It’s not grand but we have a special moment celebrating her mini memorial with the rest of our chickens. – Lynn Sullivan Stephens

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Truly the last update on Klaus. He took a turn for the worst. His body was shutting down. We took him to a vet to have him euthanized. I kept one of his feathers and they made a clay print. 

I never knew I could be so wrecked over a damn rooster, but this guy was a cut above the rest. Sweet, gentle to his ladies, excellent watch dog, protector of his baby chicks, friendly to his people. Rest In Peace my sweet friend. The homestead isn’t the same without you. – Anna Sampson

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Oh, sacrificial birds 
whatever makes you beautiful.
Don’t name them 
for they will go 
pale-combed and blue-cheeked,
lights out, golden blinks 
to frozen flight.
Here, she lies.
And when they die in January
you will not be able to part
the Earth. No one will 
receive them
and they can never be 
warm and peckish again. 
It is practice.
The quiet friendship 
of a beaked bosom. 
Such solace in loving against 
the clamor of children.
That bottomless tumbling 
inside
and gone.
I know to bathe my pets 
before they pass.
That God, he
whispers dignities into my ears and
I do my best to 
wash away my shortcomings. 
Sorry, I’m not a
more natural 
mother. Sorry, it’s harder 
than it should be. 
Of course, she had
A Name. 

Kaitlyn Wylde

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At 12:45pm today, Heaven gained this sweet, sweet soul. He was only about 10 months old, very quiet one day, and then went downhill. I treated him for things I suspected, but nothing helped. This morning he showed me it was his time. I got out the fluffy dog bed, where multiple chickens have passed on, for comfort. This bed represents chickens who have fought until the end. He was such a sweet boy, I never tamed him, it was just his nature. He loved cuddles and pats. He went peacefully and will now be buried with his friends. Thank you for showing me love, compassion and your personality. Rest easy, please, fluffy butt. – Maddy Bates

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Thanks to everyone who shared their stories and photos. Featured photo credit: Aubrey Laundry

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