She was a grand ol' girl, long retired from the egg making business. She had an easy way about her. Never the center of attention, but always tuned in to what was going on, friendly, and very aware.
About a week ago I noticed that she was really slowing down, so I started to keep a close eye on her. With each passing day, she got a bit slower and slower.
Each morning when I opened the doors to let the chickens out, she lined up with the others and slowly walked down the ramp. Throughout the day I would see her outside just hanging out, many times just resting in the grass. When she moved around she walked in very slow motion, with very deliberate movements. Pecking peacefully at grass or bugs or anything else interesting. She looked tired, but she seemed happy to be outside enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.
The past couple days when I was doing evening chores and closing up the hens, I'd look for her inside with the others, and realize she hadn't made it back up the ramp. I'd find her outside close to the bottom of the ramp, her head tucked back into her feathers, settled into a roosting position. I think the day wore her out and walking back up the ramp was just not an option. So, I'd pick her up, place her back inside, and close up the hen house and wonder if she'd live through the night.
Yesterday morning when the others lined up to go out, she couldn't make it over to the ramp. I picked her up and moved her over to a sunny spot where she could feel the sunshine streaming through the window. I figured she'd like that.
When I came back a couple of hours later she was gone.
I've learned an awful lot of lessons about life and death from our animals. This summer has been a challenging one for me for a couple of reasons, and this old hen reminded me of just how important it is to get outside, feel the sunshine, and look at the sky.
A simple lesson, but one that I needed to be reminded of.
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