in reality it’s been a story of both love and loss—our introduction to life and death on the farm, of grieving children yelling, “i wish we’d never even gotten chickens!” when we lost five chicks in one week in the brooder in winter, and later found our teenage rooster, rocky, dead in the paddock, decapitated by a hawk. (rocky’d started to attack us, drawing blood from me and the little girls, and josh had threatened to eat him, but he died a hero’s death, laying down his life for the hens. RIP rocky) we’ve got twelve sturdy laying hens now, and a new rooster, too. our remarkable ladies are named jilly, goldie, pearl, lacey, 中文鸡, tansy, millie, pieds moelleux, lady, piper, greta, and queenie. then there’s roger, our $20 craigslist bargain, but you’d never know : he’s a heritage breed, a dominique, and was sold to us by a compassionate homesteader who knew we needed “a hawk killer”, and that he is. he’s a champion, and a gentleman, too (third photo, surrounded by his ladies).
