Our fourth chicken death and it doesn’t get easier. I was heartbroken to find out that Squash somehow fell ill, and died a day later. I really wish that I could have been there to pat and cuddle her during her final hours.
I realise that it does seem sort of silly to yet again mourn over a chicken. I know that I am too sensitive and too emotionally attached, but I love my chickens because they are mine. I watch them grow from shy little pullets, unsure about their new home, into cheeky egg layers who confidently own our hof.
Squash was ‘my’ chicken because I personally brought her home from the chicken man (there’s a man with a van full of chickens that drives around Brandenburg). We didn’t have a box or a carrier, so the man placed her directly into my hands. I didn’t hold her tight enough so she managed to escape and the chicken man had to chase after her. I embarrassed Artur in front of the other villagers by showing my chicken inexperience. Finally holding her tight, I walked her home. She was scared but I tried to keep her calm with my love and affection.
Bringing Squash home 
Squash and Leila’s first day
Squash was a replacement for my beloved Pumpkin. She was beautiful and a much darker colour than your typical isa brown. She was best friends with Leila because they were the newbies of the group.
Like her isa brown sisters Pumpkin and Chickpea, Squash was friendly and put up with me picking her up often. She wasn’t as naughty as them and seemed to be a bit more reserved. We would occasionally find her sitting in odd places. She was a smoothie lover and my young little chicken girl!
Leave a Reply