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Sunday, June 7, 2009

A Chickie's Funeral

We had a sad day last week Thursday. Chickie died.

Chickie’s full name was Flyer and she was S3’s pet chicken.

Chickie sat upon S3’s shoulder as he walked around the yard; I believe it was because she knew the long drop to the ground because she was well acquainted with dropping to the ground. S3 firmly believed that the more he tossing Chickie into the air, she would surely learn to fly. Recently, I was sitting on the kitchen deck/walk way reading a magazine and KATHUMP, something too big hit my head and down at my feet was S3’s chicken. “Did you see that, Moma?” he asked excitedly, “Chickie FLEW to see you!”

Chickie did not look too happy. But she didn’t look too dazed either.

S3 carried Chickie around the house, out in the yard, gave her dump truck rides in his Tonka truck, kept her in the crook of his arm when he did chores and he thought it totally unfair that Chickie could not sleep with him in bed.

How does a chicken loved so much die, you might ask?

Well, chickens can’t swim.

S3 knows that now because he tossed Chickie over the chicken coop fence into Mr. Goose and Miss Goosey’s swimming pool because he was sure that Chickie would like to swim, and of course Chickie was tossed over because that is how she would learn to fly and she landed in the pool and he ran for the door for dinner and when he went out to get her the next morning he found her drowned.

It really was sad. The older two boys fished her out and we put her in a plastic grocery bag, it wouldn’t be right to just leave her on the ground.

S3 was devastated. He was screaming “Chickie!” and wondering if the Goose’s had pushed her in the pool. But then he was sure I would take him to the local farm store to get a new chicken; which I won’t do because we have 35 new baby chickens due to arrive in two weeks. And one baby chick isn’t going to survive on its own very easily. Also, if I have one I know he will convince me he can sleep with it, I’m sure. When I said no new chicken right now, he wanted a turkey. You have to admit that is pretty creative of him!

Because we had friends over when we discovered Chickie ( of course, we could never have a ‘normal’ visit with someone, it always has to be dramatic somehow), we waited to the next day to have the funeral. S1 carried the shovel, S2 carried Chickie in the bag and then thought it was cool how he could whip Chickie in circles and S3 began to worry this would make Chickie deader than she was so he had to stop. I held S3’s hand as we walked to our pet cemetery. S4 wanted to stay in and watch CARS, again.

We have a pet cemetery. We have lost quite a few pets over the years. We have a dog, two goats, a rabbit, a salamander, a baby bird and now a chicken buried there. We dug the hole, marked it with a stick and rock then we all held hands and I prayed a prayer, thanking God that we had a chance to have Chickie for this short time and that we were thankful that God makes lots more chickens so S3 could have a new pet soon, etc. When we were done we all went back to the house for ice cream. No more tears.

It was quite the day. And just so you don’t worry, S3 is all excited about the new chicks delivery and how he can pick ANY chicken he wants and no one else can. When you are the middle child getting the hand me downs, getting first dibs is a pretty big deal. He makes sure all his brothers remember this too.

I’ll keep you updated!

1 comment:

Praise and Coffee said...

I told Lauren, she was devastated, she screamed- WHY?!

I can still see him, chicken under arm...