R.I.P. Frida

Very sad day.  This morning I went out to feed the girls like normal and Frida was missing.  She had flown over the fence once before, so I went to the front of the house and called for her.  Normally, as soon as she hears me, she comes running, hoping for some treat that I would be bringing them.  When she was nowhere in sight and couldn’t be heard, a lump started forming in my stomach.  I went into the backyard and pulled down the door of the chicken coop.  And there she was; lying dead in the basket where they lay their eggs.  Rigor had already set in, so she must have passed sometime during the night.

Yes, I know that they are farm animals.  And animals die.  Mostly so that they can end up on our plate.  I have threatended the girls many times with “You don’t lay enough eggs, you are going to jump in the freezer!”.  They complied faithfully with giving Whitney and I more eggs than we could eat.  But somehow, this is different.  Such a shock that Frida would die so young, and considering there was absolutley nothing wrong with her at about 8 P.M. the night before.  So between then and 7 a.m. something happened and she passed away.

I have a suspicion that her death was due to her being egg bound, which is when the egg does not pass through their vent and becomes lodged inside their body.  It is very severe and can lead to death quite quickly.  I didn’t want to poke and prod her, as I think she deserved more respect than that, but that is my main suspect in her death.  There were no signs of a struggle or anything, so hopefully she died rather peacefully.

She was my admitted favorite chicken, who loved to be held and petted.  When people would come over, she was the one that I picked up and had people pet (you would be surprised how many people have NEVER touched a live chicken).  She was my faithful layer, laying the largest and most eggs with a beautiful tan color.  The one who seemed most happy to see me; especially when I had cobs of corn or a juicy tomato.  The one who cooed contendedly in my arms when I would take her around the yard touring the vegetable garden with me.

I find myself struck with strange emotions for a pet that I would just as soon eat for dinner.  She was a great ambassador for Backyard Chickens and she will be sorely missed.  R.I.P. Frida, aka Chicken #1, aka Breakfast of Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner, aka The Ambassadorette, aka my Favorite Chick

One my favorite pics of all time. Drenched Frida Chicken! She looks so pathetic!

RIP Frida

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