Off To That Great Henhouse In The Sky
I am sorry to say that Lindy The Chicken passed away over the holiday weekend, probably from natural causes associated with age. (Though death by too much celebrating with her longtime companion and cohort, Whitey, is not entirely out of the question.) She was a little over five and a half years old.
We are certainly not strangers to death on the farm, and new visitors are no doubt wondering why on earth I am making a big deal about the passing of some poultry on a food blog. But those of you who have been following along here for a while know that Lindy was one of the central characters in our crazy cast of critters. You worried with me when she escaped from the coop during a storm, and you cheered when she was safely returned to her home.
Lindy The Chicken did not come by her name until last year during my Name That Sheep Contest. As I've stated before, I was not her voice in the comments section over the past year. But the person who was that voice imbued her with such a wonderful personality. She was smart, funny, and full of wit, and I always looked forward to reading what she had to say. For many months I have been meaning to write down a story or two about Lindy and Whitey, and one of these days I will. And if I ever do end up creating that line of farm animal stuffed toys (with accompanying storybooks), you can be sure that Lindy The Chicken will be included as one of the gang.
Whitey seems confused and a little sad. The hens are usually all silent once it gets dark outside, as they are settled on their perches and ready for sleep. But that first night alone I heard Whitey making soft, nervous little noises to herself. Whitey & Lindy always perched right next to each other. During the day I see her constantly peering about, and I do believe she is looking for her friend.
Lindy The Chicken lived a long and mostly uneventful life. She was loved and admired and surrounded by friends, and she always ate very, very well. She was happy and healthy until the very end, and her last meal was a feast that included organic purple cabbage, her all time favorite food. She may have been just a chicken, but I, for one, would be quite happy with a life consisting of nothing more than that.
Farewell, my fine feathered friend. You are missed.
A year of Daily Photos ago:
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