If you have read my blog for very long, you know I have chickens. I love my chickens. Their names are Dorcas, Beatrice, Phoebe, Freedom, Penninah, Jemima, Abigail and Ada. I take very good care of my girls. They are a little spoiled. If I open the back door, they come running to the garden gate to wait for their treats. Treats being leftover salad, pumpkins, sunflower seeds, bread(they go wacko over bread), or anything leftover from meals that the dogs won’t eat.
I check them once or twice a day to be sure they have water and feed in the feeder. Every night David goes on chicken patrol to be sure all the hens are on their roost. They are usually in their house before the sun is completely set. But tonight, one of them was missing. Abigail, the Silver Laced Wyndotte. The most beautiful chicken I have. Where was she?
David took a flashlight and began looking for her. In every tree, over the neighbor’s fence(if she had escaped the yard we might never find her), all over the yard. I put on a coat and got a flashlight and began to look too. I looked behind and under and on top of everything in the yard and garden. I rechecked the chicken coop to be sure we hadn’t missed her. I couldn’t believe how awful I felt that Abigail might be lost to us forever. This makes me think of a story in the Bible about Jesus looking for the lost sheep. That lost sheep was so important to Him he left the others to go and find it. That is what I was doing with that lost chicken. Then, I said a little prayer. I said, “Dear God, please help us find Abigail. She won’t survive the night outdoors.” Then I looked some more and then I looked behind a piece of lumber in the chicken coop and there she was. She had flown between the shed and the fence and gotten wedged in and couldn’t get out. Her wing was caught in the fencing. She must have been there for quite a while and put up quite a struggle because she looked frazzled and almost dead. In fact, I thought she was dead for a second. My heart dropped. Then David touched her and she clucked. He had to pull her out and if a chicken could scream, she sounded like it. She was tramatized I could tell.
David placed her on the roost in the coop. She was breathing so hard and was all fluffed up and her head hung down. Poor girl. Chickens have a way of beating another chicken when it’s down and Freedom hopped up on the roost and started picking on Abigail. I brushed her off the roost and told her she better leave Abigail alone.
This is the first time I thought I had lost one of my hens and I realized I am entirely too attached to them. My dad never mourned a dead chicken. If one got eaten by a pig he’d just say, ” The pigs got another chicken,” and take a big bite out of the chicken leg he was eating. If he found one dead in the chicken yard he would throw it over the fence to the pigs.
Speaking of chickens, I have been cooking one all day to make broth to make chicken and dumplings for Thanksgiving. I didn’t know this particular chicken so I don’t feel bad about eating it.
Hope you have a blessed Thanksgiving and give thanks to the One who provides all we need. Bye.