One chicken down tonight. Came home to find all the girls at the fence calling to me with more frantic abandon than usual, and found Clara stiff as a dead chicken in the run. She’d looked unhappy for some time, and I guess we knew it was a get over it or don’t kind of thing. Another small hole dug under the trees; another life returns to the land to grow life anew. So long little chicken, and thanks for all the eggs.
If I needed a grin after that, I need only look to auntie beeb…
Rosher.Net 
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