Well. Today I am the bearer of the most saddest of sad news.
OC, our favourite chicken, once named Other Chicken when Ginger (RIP) was still here, who became Only Chicken on her passing, moved on to pastures new last night. We are all unbelievably sad, and will miss her woefully. I will particularly miss her of course as she was my Right Hand Hen in all particulars of Health and Safety, being terribly helpful at times when I was stressed, being calm when I was frantic and although I am sorry to say that I rarely told her, I am endlessly grateful for all the loving and understanding support she has given me over our time together.
She was born……..or hatched……I am not sure when or where, but she spent the first few years of her life on an organic free range farm outside of Abergavenny from where she apparently came to us with friends about six years ago – before I came here. I could not honestly say that she was a tremendous layer of eggs, but I expect she did her bit.
Then one day Mr Fox called by. Luckily OC was with Ginger, the super escapology expert, when it happened, so he took all her friends but did not notice he has missed them. So the two of them spent their days happily wandering about the farm, through the house to the sitouterie, sharing their lives, chatting amiably, enjoying my company (especially) and that of everyone else both permanent and temporary residents, spending their nights in the bush outside the front door. They loved sorting out visiting dogs……that was their real forte! And I think OC was awful sad when Ginger died, and then she moved out to live in the outside breadoven for a time, feeling safer there I expect as we kept wandering by collecting wood for the fire when she would mutter gently from inside.
She has been poorly before, and indeed has worried me tremendously from time to time when she has failed to round the corner in search of breakfast. Many a morning I have set off, nose highly tuned, to meet her jaunting along perfectly happily, totally unaware that she was causing me real concern. About four weeks ago we resorted to a tiny spec of penicillin to try and help her and indeed it did for a while when she took to sleeping in my tin bath, which was at least more convenient than my bed. But now that she is gone, I forgive her all her thoughtless moments, her annoying crowing uppityness, her cheeky teasing when I get things wrong and I am deeply sorry that I would not even consider letting her have a special corner in the shepherds hut. I now feel badly about that, but she is such a sweet natured hen that I am sure she would forgive me in return.
She is buried under the trees in the pet cemetery and I hope now she is happy with all our old friends who have gone before. She brought everyone such pleasure, such a smile on all faces at her antics, and except for the random poohs she was a perfect person to have about.
Rest In Peace lovely friend. I shall miss you. Gizmo