Transferring the Chicks

There's never an end to the chores around here, and unfortunately for Bruce, the majority of them fall upon his shoulders.  (We're all just lucky he has strong, wide shoulders).

The chore today was to build a pen inside the existing chicken coop, so we could transfer the chicks from our garage, into the hen house where they belong.

They are growing too big for the tiny enclosure we had them in, PLUS, this will give the hens and roosters a chance to get used to the babies, without them being able to get AT the babies.

Journey was all for the idea. She likes to help :)

The roosters, and hens knew something was up... they just weren't sure they were going to like it-

whatever IT was.

Bruce did a GREAT job dividing the coop.... 

there was only one thing...

Luckily, he remedied the problem before we put the chicks in!  Oopsies!  :)

Done!  Time to get the babies!

 

Selkie and Piper waited patiently.

 

They like helping with other chores better.

The chicks were a bit worried, 

especially when Journey came to check them out.

Once in their new home, they settled right in.

Olivia is the rust colored chick. Ebony is the large black one, and just to Ebony's right, is Piccadilly! (she's Chelsey's favorite)

Henny Penny had been in the coop during the majority of the construction work, 

but

Bess took it upon herself to call to the other hens

to come see the new additions. 

They came in cautiously, one by one...

Apparently, they didn't feel threatened by the penned up youngsters. They accepted them readily enough.

All were in the coop, save one.

Henrietta.

We'd noticed she wasn't doing well, and we knew she wasn't going to make it.

Our hens are old, and though they've had wonderful, happy chicken lives, they are not going to live forever. 

I stood with Henrietta for a bit, thanking her for her years of supplying us with fresh eggs- telling her what a beautiful, good chicken she was-

and in the quiet I became aware of her world.

the droning of a fly,

the chomping of a grazing horse,

the shuffling noises of her chicken friends scratching for food, 

their murmured clucks, and calls,

distant bird songs,

crickets chirping,

the susurrus of animals.

And I thought, if she has to die, this isn't such a bad way to do it.  

Amidst the familiar, and safe-

surrounded by all she knows.

Peaceful and calm.

I bade Journey to keep watch, and when I came down the next day, Henrietta had left us.

Everything that has life is precious to me.

Everything that breathes is important.

Thank you, Henrietta.

Godspeed