Isabella prepared the burial "coffin" and tried to make said chicken more comfortable with pulled up clover, their favorite snacking grass.
(I was trying so hard to keep my face from cracking up at the absurdity of this, because to them, this was a tragedy! I mean, she knows biology but logic skills were over shadowed by grief.)
Anton got to work digging a hole. I had to explain why digging a hole near the orchard was not a good idea and closer to the "field" was a better option. The hole needed to be deep in order to not attract fox or skunk near the house.
It was a sad moment and Isabella sulked for a bit with her other chickens.
I made a call to the other girl to come get her chicks as I feared the problem was over crowding as my inspection did not reveal any trauma. But on further thought, I suspect it was just survival of the fittest as I had noticed that one of the hens seemed to be more by itself than the others on multiple occasions and the last one in at night.
Oh, the hard lessons of life and trying to put them into perspective with animals on a farm. I had warned her about naming her chicks, but she still likes to treat them as pets.
I guess it is OK with the laying hens, but what if we actually start raising meat poultry?
