R.I.P. Myrtle

Last night, our beloved Myrtle fell victim to Fowl Play (okay, okay. bad I know. and not the time for jokes. Sorry).

We haven't updated since we got chicks back in the spring. As promised, we did indeed get two more for a total of four. It's been a fun adventure and such a delightful thing to have fresh eggs every day from your own chickens who are eating food you trust and living lives that you know are humane.

But today we are officially back down to two chickens.

The first we lost was originally named Florence but we had to revoke the name. Why? She turned out to be a he (it's notoriously difficult to sex a 1-day old chicken, so you gotta expect this to happen now and again). He was a beautiful rooster, but we realized we would have to... "get rid of him"... before he started crowing and causing problems (yes, I mean that in the way the maffia means that) (Discussion Topic: how do I feel about engaging in animal sexism by killing an animal just because it's male, knowing that this has happened in various cultures to human babies just because they were female? discuss).

Jared was all prepared to man-up and learn how to slaughter a chicken and provide for his family. But then we learned that there is a Rooster Relocation Program (No, that's not a joke. There really is. We live in Portland. Things like that go on here). Anyway, since our Rooster was truly free-range and not genetically bred to have double huge enormous juicy hormone-laden breasts, we learned he would be mostly sinew and might make good stock, but that's about it, other than maybe a couple tough bites of tiny breast. So we spared his life and donated him to a local farmer. That was a couple months ago. Goodbye Rooster-Man (as he came to be called).

Then we were left with three: Strawberry, Rosie, and Myrtle.

Last night we lost Myrtle (the one on the right), who hadn't even lived long enough to lay any of her much-anticipated blue eggs (it would have happened probably in the next few weeks). We've followed the trail of feathers and tried to figure out what happened. As near as we can figure, with the temperatures suddenly dropping well below freezing, the local band of raccoons has gotten more aggressive and started their prowling much earlier. We think we didn't lock up the chicken pen soon enough after dark last night, and the raccoons must have gotten in before we did. This morning only Strawberry was out clucking for food. Rosie re-appeared a few hours later. Myrtle hasn't come home, but based on the bounty of feathers blowing in the wind near the coop, we are pretty certain she didn't make it. Tonight we heard the raccoons attacking some poor creature in a neighbor's yard, and it was quite early. Earlier than we managed to lock the coop last night, so it all seems to make sense.


So today we are explaining to Seville about death and chicken-heaven. She doesn't seem too distraught about it. I actually think it's good for her to be exposed to the reality of mortality when she's young, but of course it's not like she really understands.