RIP Marsala
Well, I got home tonight and little Marsala had died. She didn't look so good this morning but she'd been having good days and bad days. She's in the photo above, in front.
Awww, I'll miss that chicken. Never thought I'd get attached to a bird but the way they run around when I come in the coop and squawk to go outside and squawk for treats--it gets into your daily routine.
So I bagged her up and decided to head out for a snowshoe. My new shoes are fantastic. I wore the wrong clothes though. I should have had my snowboard pants on because running snowshoes kick up a lot of snow and it lands right on your arse. Gabby came with and we did a loop of the field behind the house then I took off the snowshoes and went for a run to the corner and back. We got at least 5" of snow last night and it's about 9 degrees right now. Cold enough that I didn't get warm enough running and I had a lot of clothes on. I might be getting thin-skinned! Time to move to a warmer clime???
tally ho...time for a shower,
becx
7 comments:
Awwwwww. Poor little Marsala. I know you were concerned about her and you'll miss her, but at least you know she isn't suffering now. I looked all over the place for an appropriate song to sing in her memory. Not too many dead chicken songs available in English. This is the only actually re-printable one I found:
They recommend it be sung to the strains of Pomp and Circumstance. I tried it and found it rather catchy.
"Ask not for whom the chicken dies, for he dies for thee:
My chicken flies sideways
Your chicken flies upside-down
My chicken flies sideways
Your chicken is dead.
My chicken eats oatmeal
Your chicken eats Cream of Wheat
My chicken eats oatmeal
Your chicken is dead
My chicken drinks root beer
Your chicken drinks screwdrivers
My chicken drinks root beer
Your chicken is dead
My chicken wears lip gloss
Your chicken wears eyeliner
My chicken wears lip gloss
Your chicken is dead
My chicken smokes herring
Your chicken smokes cigarettes
My chicken smokes herring
Your chicken is dead
(etc.)
Hopefully not copyrighted, but here to share, nonetheless. It was suggested as an excellent road trip song - better than 99 bottles of beer on the wall as you can simply make up more verses as you go along......sort of an endless reminder, if you will, of a very nice chicken, indeed.
Poor little Marsala.
RIP, indeed.
Well isn't that a perfect song for the occasion! I'll print it off for the road trip with the team!
Only you could find an ode to a dead fowl. hee hee!
I'll get searching for Marsala II.
I guess the real question is this: are you having chicken salad for lunch today? Just kidding. Those birds are like having little kids running around and it's always hard losing one. Seems odd to most, but most aren't farmers. Maybe you can get Joe to do a 1 gun salute to the fallen soldier.
Marsala is dead! Long live Marsala! Odd feeling, isn't it when a farm animal dies? She was not quite a pet but she made you feel happy, she didn't crave your affection but she fed you. It's not a sad feeling so much as an emptyness for me when a favorite ewe or doe dies.
Speaking of which, I still have your goat waiting to fill that void in your heart.
I've requested a McMurray Hatchery catalog for myself and I'll save it for you to look at. There are some gorgeous birds in there! I've always been partial to the buff orpintons.
OKAY you farmer people..
What kind of farmers are you anyway?
Maybe my chicken song sounded too hard-hearted. (I didnt create it after all - it was the only one I could find that didnt have bad words or REALLY evil thoughts) I had to kill and butcher chickens as a kid to earn my ponies' keep, and I had to come to a harsh reality about chickens that the farm owner had learned long before: The mean ones clearly deserved it.
Now, Marsala was a different kind of thing. And I think free-range chickens may not have quite the same nasty pecking order caged birds have. But I used to choose the most aggressive ones for Mrs Jones' dinner party (whatever they weighed)so the ones with all the feathers pecked out of their poor little butts would have a chance to heal. I guess I just look at flocks of them less affectionately. (And I'm a sucker for sheep and goats, with or without names) But, geesh, Bec, when you name them......... it's a whole different thing. I do remember a big plate of Iggy stew I couldn't bring myself to eat. And he wasn't even my calf. I really am sorry about Marsala. Did she enjoy her cross-country outing in the bag? (At least it sounded like that) You can name the next one Barbara and I'll soften.
clack clack clack!!!!
The sky is FALLING!
Yeah, Sara,
Ya dont even hafta wait for the catalog. http://www.mcmurrayhatchery.com/product/buff_orpingtons.html
Pictures and everything!
Hi guys..
Nice thoughts there, Sara. I agree in what you said: marsala gave me a little bit of happiness every day and I'm glad for that.
And the goat sounds great, esp. if it eats burdock.
The buff orpington sounds lovely. Is that the one with the black feathers?
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