We hatched four beautiful chicks three weeks ago. Milky Jo, Falke, Balou and Zebedee. We loved them. Milky Jo and Falke were really good at jumping on my hand and perching when I took them outside. Zebedee was good at not being caught. We had theories about who would grow up to be a rooster and who a hen but until we could be sure we called them all she. But now we'll never know. Our neighbours dog killed them all today when our backs were turned. This is my eulogy to the chicks I loved.
Zebedee, the youngest. She pipped her shell one morning and still hadn't broken through by the next night so I helped her out. The membrane had dried and stuck to her back and with a bit of moistening she kicked her way out. She stayed a bit crunched up for awhile, as if too long in the shell had left her shell-shaped. We worried about her for ages because she was so much smaller than the rest, but she was starting to catch up. She was the hardest to catch, and when every other chick had moved elsewhere she'd run around crying until we managed to grab her. She was less feisty than the others, and while they would fly around she'd bed down and have a little sleep in the sun. Here she is running away as she did best.
Milky Jo was our first born. She was just starting to turn beautiful shades of silver and gold. I loved Milky the most and she was the least cautious of me. When the rooster first met them and chased them round a bit Milky led the charge back to the safety of us humans and stayed in the crook of my arm longer than the rest. Milky, I'm sorry more than anything that you're gone.
Falke looked a lot like Milky. But true to her name was more yellow with brown-tipped feathers. When they first saw the bigger chooks, Falke ran up to them flapping wings, before taking stock of how big they were and running away. The second child, she seemed a bit tougher than Milky, but they both held their own in a fight.
Balou was so strong. She shattered the shell in one kick and looked so powerful that I stayed up til 2 am, sure the next kick would break her out. She was bigger than the rest, but had a funny leg that stuck forward that the older chicks liked to peck at. She suffered through numerous splint attempts and some regular physio, but after a week she was walking fine. She liked running up sleeves and perching on shoulders. Sometimes I would find Balou comfortably sitting on top of Zebedee. Zebedee was happy, she loved hiding in small, warm, secure spaces.
My beautiful chicks who brought me so much joy, I'm sorry I won't see how you grow up. Today was a sad, sad day. I loved you and will miss you all.
