“My Chicken Theology isn’t Up to Scratch”

You guys, I have some awful news:

my tweener chicks are gone.


And, let me make this clear: I am actually, really, not-in-any-way-exaggerating emotionally upset about this.


Here’s what we think happened – it appears as though some bratty-little-kids came into my backyard, killed Pteradactyl (the blonde) and took Opossum(the redhead).


Here is why we think that: when I got home, I went to check on the tweeners like I always do.  Bubba was over and we found Ptera’s body. There were, for lack of a more appropriate term, no signs of a struggle. It certainly doesn’t seem as though any critter was to blame because of the lack of mess. No blood. No feathers. just sweet bird laying on her side, lifeless.




Opossum, who never liked to be even inches away from Pteradactyl, was no where in sight. Also no signs of struggle from her anywhere.



I couldn’t handle it. I never thought I’d be that girl, but i called Homenovio, and said “Can you come over sooner?” (he was supposed to be by in an hour. But I could not bear to wait an hour knowing the body of my sweet pet was laying in the dirt. It seemed so unkind.)
“Uhh, I can…”
::something unintelligible about birds::
“You can’t find them?”
“I can but she’s dead!”
“I’ll be right there.”


So bubba and I try to change the subject while I pace my kitchen. Homes shows up about half a blink later and I break down.

“I don’t know what to do with her.”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got it.”

So he did. He scooped her up and drove ACROSS TOWN IN SXSW traffic so he could “properly” dispose of her, which according to the google, after hours on a Friday,that means driving to some disposal center off Ben White. All just so I didn’t have to cry over my baby bird in a trash can.


Sometimes a trauma hurts a little less when you don’t have to tough it out, ya know? When someone will just let you lose your mind a little over a dead chicken. (It will be VERY diff when we eat Tiger. That’s not senseless. This seemed so….unjust.)


Later, when we were discussing what might have happened (we were all really stumped at the lack of any seeming reason behind one dead chick and one missing chick, and yes, I asked the neighbors and we looked in all the surrounding yards) David says,

“Maybe there was a chicken rapture.”-David
“You don’t think she loved the Lord?” -Me, appalled that he would question the integrity of my birds’ salvation
“Tough to say.”
“Plus she DIED, she didn’t get left behind. Chicken rapture means death for unbelievers?”
“My chicken theology isn’t up to scratch.”


I left the light on and coop door open in case Opossum comes back.


just in case.




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