Yesterday with all its driving went well; today we're off to the local go-kart & mini golf park with a few of R's friends to celebrate her 11th birthday. Our little girl continues to grow before our eyes and is becoming quite a young lady. She was thrilled with her birthday gifts and is looking forward to her day. I am not making a cake for her; I asked her what kind she wanted and she said: pie. Birthday pie. So this morning I baked her a strawberry and rhubarb pie as per her request. I guess I'll stick a sparkler in it.
Last evening was one of those ones you don't plan and is strange and kind of surreal. Good friend J, whose family just got chickens a month ago, called in a bit of a panic: one of the hens had died in the coop, no idea why. From my own experience I had no idea - I'm just a year into this after all and we've not had any losses like that. Of course the concern was disease and if it was something contagious. So I gulped and did one of those things that I would only do for a very good friend: offered to do a post-mortem. Friends don't let friends ... um ... not sure how to finish that. The irony (or providence?) is that last week I received one of my hobby farming magazines and wouldn't you know, in the back was an article on how to do just that.
So, reaching WAAAAY back into my university days, I set out to do it. She brought over the hen, and we started operating. Some searching and some awful smells later, the culprit was found: the hen had eaten a nail. It had lodged in her stomach and punctured the wall. Sad, but thankfully not something the other hens could catch from her. I guess I can add another chapter to the CSI:Farm files. I would say something about the verdict being no foul play, but that pun would just be too much. So I won't.