Seth found one of our chickens beside the coop yesterday, she was dead. I asked if she was attacked, he said that she was just laying there with her wings spread out a bit. I thought the poor thing might have died from heat exhaustion before she got to the water. Poor, poor chicken, whatever could have happened to her?
Then Clay came home and reminded me that I came barrelling down the drive way honking the horn yesterday. The chickens went a bit wacky and ran across the road just as I was passing the coop. “Could it be that you ran over a chicken yesterday?” Clay suggested with a tone of accusation.
I was involved in a hit and chicken run accident. I am guilty, I killed a chicken.
There has been no end to the imitations of me squealing down the drive way and gurgling chicken bocking from my husband and children. My sons also like to act out how the chicken must have been launched into the air making what obviously was rocket launching sounds to crash next to the coop with gurgling chicken bocking. Poor, poor chicken she didn’t know what hit her or maybe she did and her dying bock was, “Whyeeeee? April, whyeeeeee? Brooooockgllggl, uhg.”