...is saying goodbye. We lost our first chicken today. In fact, it was the first loss of a pet that my children have ever suffered. Today we had to bury our sweet Eglantine.
Eglantine was originally named "Rocky", as she was the first egg to wiggle, and in her struggles to pip, moved around the incubator a great deal, bumping and thumping her siblings along the way. I actually had to help her hatch, as some membrane had dried on her from her prolonged, weak efforts at pipping her shell open. I have a really hard time believing that that was just 5 months ago. It feels like we've had these "babies" forever.
Eggy somehow found her way out into the road and was struck. The most upsetting part of which was that whomever did it did not bother to stop and tell us, but left her there for Scarlet and I to happen upon while going to get the mail. No kid should ever have to see their beloved animal like that. I can still hear my poor girl's wail.
While I took Scarlet inside to break the news to Olivia, Papa buried our chickie girl under the biggest Alder tree that he could find in the back pasture. I told the girls that that means that Eggy's body is a part of our farm forever now, and that she will, in a way, grow with the tree. But most importantly, that her lively little spirit has gone to heaven to frolic with Grammy's dog, Shadow, and to eat endless corn and red worms.
We're all still having a little trouble getting past the sudden trauma of her passing, but the goats coming tomorrow has helped brighten an otherwise very dark day. Please keep my kiddos in your thoughts, their hearts are saddened and strained as they struggle to learn and accept the rules of life and death. I could pray that this would be the last such traumatic loss that we'd suffer, but accepting the realities of life on a farm means accepting the brutality of sudden loss. I just wish that I could save my girls from the pain of it.