A Wee Lady Goes to Rest


Fiona the Chick died sometime last night.  Somehow, knowing it was coming didn't make it easier.

As many wise people have said, some little guys just don't make it--that's the way nature goes.  And we probably kept her alive for far longer than she would have been with a hen for a mom.  In fact, I was questioning myself for it at a certain point, wondering if it might not be kinder to end her suffering--wondering if maybe coaxing her to eat and drink was more for me.

But, in the end, I decided she had the right to try to live, and I was going to do my best to help her.  

And in retrospect, I don't know what I would have done differently.  I think she would have done better in a brooder by herself without the bigger chickens, but she didn't want to be alone...and the big girls weren't actively picking on her, it was just that she stayed chick-sized and they've grown-up.  It was actually getting to the point where I was going to have to separate them no matter what--the big girls are getting their feathers and needing less heat--so maybe little Miss Fi picked the right time to make her exit.

And, as is the way with humans when a beloved animal dies, I promise myself that I won't let myself get so attached next time.  But it's a promise I look forward to breaking.