Today was a really hard day.
If you know us, you know how much we love our animals — they aren't just animals to us, they're part of the family.
Earlier this year we brought home some guineas, after reading how well they do paired with chickens — chickens tend to lead, guineas tend to follow. So we got three chickens too: two hens and a rooster, all raised together from the start.
I loved those chickens, and they loved me right back. Our rooster, Foghorn, was the sweetest of the bunch — he'd let me hold him and love all over him without a fuss. Every morning, Devin would let the flock out to free-range, and they'd wait for him by the coop, so excited to see him. Today started just like any other.
Then, while I was at work, my son called to tell me that Riley, my father-in-law's dog, had gone missing. I called Devin right away and asked him to go check on the birds.
The guineas were safe. So was Chili, my little shoulder buddy who rides around with me most days.
But Left Eye, our sweet little white chicken, Foghorn, our rooster, and our two hens, Diva and Bubbles, were gone. Devin and the boys found feathers scattered everywhere — they'd been attacked.
I know to some people, they're just chickens. But they weren't just chickens to us. They depended on us to keep them safe, and I can't shake the feeling that we failed them. I never expected to grieve this hard over a flock of birds, but I loved every one of them — each with their own quirky little personality. Foghorn kept the guineas in line. Diva and Bubbles ran the flock and protected everybody in it. Chili is still my shoulder buddy, and I'm holding onto her a little tighter tonight.
And on top of it all, Riley is still missing.
Tonight I'm sitting here with a heavy heart. It was a brutal day, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. This is part of homesteading too — not just the parts we love to film, but the parts that are just as real. Thank you for letting us be honest about the hard days, not only the good ones.