I wonder if they've noticed that their numbers have dwindled. I don't think so; they seem oblivious. Cheeky is no more, my attempts at helping her having failed and the decision to do the humane thing having been put into action. It really was an uphill battle. Many thanks again must go to D, who very able and quickly dispatched the poor hen. Our eight hens of two summers ago are now four.
They still entertain, they still dig bugs from and fertilize our garden, they still look at things with their perpetual expression of surprise, they still scratch up the mulch that lays on the landscaping fabric along our walkway and strew the mulch all over said walkway. They still run over to me if I have tomatoes. Running chickens still make me laugh. I still like to see their little orange-feathered selves as they walk across the yard or run to chase a moth. They make things slow down, they make things seem simpler. Sounds deep and corny, but it's true.
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