And then there were three

I saw them in the morning, roaming the yard.  The bright white ball of fluff that is Phyllis.  The beautiful, and molting red lady, Peg Bundy.  They were grazing.  They were doing their best to stay out of the bitch’s way.  The bitch being L.L. Cool Hen.  She calls the shots in the yard, and plucks the feathers of anyone who goes against her reign.  Just hours later Peg was found lying headless and mauled in the back of the yard, and there was a trail of white feathers leading to the back fence where Phyllis had escaped or (probably) was dragged to her death (we can’t find her remains).  It was probably Black Cat.  Every day Black Cat creeps through our yard.  I don’t even know where he comes from, or who he belongs to.  But it may not have been him.  I’ve also caught Orange Cat back there before, terrorizing the girls.  I don’t think it was the neighbor’s dogs.  I’ve watched one of those pit bulls kill one of my chickens in the past (R.I.P. Lucy) and we would’ve heard that.

We got Peg as a chick along with L.L. Cool Hen and Leslie Snipes.  Anytime we get new chicks I always pick a red one and name her after a famous red head.  She had been molting recently and looked pathetic.  But when her feathers would grown back in, she was the prettiest bird in the yard.  She was often the noisy one in the morning.  I will go out there to see what all the fuss is about and nothing.  She would just be talking, making noise, wanting attention.  I’ll miss your bawking, Peg.

Oh, Phyllis.  Everyone loved Phyllis.  What’s not to love?  She was a pint sized ball of white fluff named after Phyllis Diller.  We adopted her from a blue haired lady a few years ago.  She was the cuddliest of the girls, and didn’t mind being held.  She also didn’t mind Diego.  In fact, they were kind of pals.  Whenever we refill the water or food in the coop, Diego would jump up in the hen box with Phyllis as if to protect her from the bitch.  He loved her.  We all loved her.  Phyllis, we’re going to miss your tiny eggs, and your willingness to be cuddled.

Rest in peace my sweet little birds.

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