Tears.

"It was my favorite chicken!"

I've heard those words over and over after the various ways in which various chickens of ours have crossed the rainbow bridge into chicken Valhalla. It's always the favorite one. We've had rounds of chickens--largely a sequence of increasingly inbred miniature ones (this was not the plan) and currently a flock of six full-sized ones that look freaking huge in comparison.

Every now and then a hawk gets one, or a fisher cat, or one just drops dead for no apparent reason. We've had chicks, and enjoyed their adorable fluffiness--but inevitably, only about 2/3