22/11/2024
I heard from Hannah last week. She’d just lost a bantam hen, and then found my 2018 article, When Your Hen Dies. Hannah wrote, “Your blog post is lovely and has helped me during this time. Thank you.”
2017 was a bad year for me. That was the year I had open heart surgery. And my mom passed away. Bad stuff like that. On top of that, there was a whole series of deaths in my coop—eight over the course of a year. It wasn’t like a major infectious disease invaded my coop. I would lose a chicken and deal with the loss, and then before I knew it somebody else would be sick with something else—or somebody would die suddenly. It was constant heartbreak.
The final affront was the evening I went to the coop to put chickens to bed and found my little Silkie rooster pal, Snowball, dead on the coop floor. That’s when I wrote When Your Hen Dies. I think I wrote it as an exercise in self-consolation. It allowed me to work through my own feelings about chicken ownership. I originally got chickens because I thought it would be a fun hobby. And it was fun. It was beyond fun. It was spellbinding. I was so drawn in by this little society of distinct personalities living in my coop!
Then I lost one. And then more followed one-by-one. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t found that having experienced the loss of a chicken makes it any easier when I lose the next one. I mourn each death. And the sadness I feel with the latest loss in my coop is just as palpable as the sadness I felt with the first. So, needless to say, my feelings were a little raw in early 2018 when I wrote that piece. It’s pretty obvious, I think.
But if my words provide some comfort for anyone at all, then they were worth writing. I’ve heard from more people about this article than anything else I’ve written. Rebecca wrote, “No one ever warns you that you’ll fall in love with your chickens and that eventually they will and do break your heart. Thank you for this beautifully written article.” From Susan, “I lost my hen today that I hatched in an incubator exactly a year ago. We've been through lockdown together and I'm going to miss her so much. Thanks for writing this.” And this heartbreaking message from Lauren, “I lost two hens yesterday in a (most likely) hawk attack. I know that owning chickens came with risk and the occasional inevitable, but I’m DEVASTATED. You are right- they are easy to love and hard to lose. I can’t stop crying and didn’t even want to work today. Thank you for your words.”
I regularly check my blog analytics numbers to see how I'm doing. How many people are finding their way to the articles I post? What are they reading? What’s not getting read? Those numbers help me as I think about what topics I should write about next.
But analytics numbers don’t mean a fraction as much to me as the actual messages from readers like the ones that I shared here.
I love to hearing from you! You can post a comment at the end of an article, or contact me privately via the “contact me” button on my home page. I appreciate the time and effort that anyone takes to get in touch and assume that person was genuinely affected (hopefully in a positive way) by what I had to say.
After our pet chicken dies, then what? We are often loath to talk about it, because too many people just don’t get it. While nearly everybody understands the importance of our cats and dogs in our lives, to most folks, chickens are “just chickens.”