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Hi y’all, I know, long time since I have popped in. The harvest season was so very busy. More on that another time–soon! Right now I thought you would all like to know that our dear Marianne Dashwood died last night.
About 5 weeks ago she began her regular seasonal molt and everything was fine at first. Then it became clear she was very uncomfortable and miserable and having a hard time of it. But other than making sure she is safe and warm and has extra protein, there isn’t a whole lot that can be done to help a chicken through a molt. Her new feathers began coming in but she was still not well.
About two weeks ago she stopped coming out of the coop. James put a small bowl of food and water in the coop for her but she hardly touched either. The other three Dashwoods left her alone. It’s good they didn’t pick on her, but at the same time, they cut her out of the flock.
Wednesday and Thursday she was perkier. She left the coop and was moving around. We thought she was feeling better and on the mend. We even joked about James playing Colonel Brandon and reading her Shakespearean sonnets during her convalescence.
But Friday afternoon when I came home from work I found her laying on her side in the run and unable to sit up. I scooped her up into my lap and she snuggled against me. I petted her head, and talked to her. James had given the Dashwoods a big bowl of soybean mash earlier in the day and there was some still left, so I put some onto my finger and put it on the side of her beak to encourage her to eat. And she did. But only a very little. Still, she cooed a bit as I held her. So I had some hope that maybe . . .
I found a cardboard box and made a bed for her in it and brought her into the house. Waldo was surprisingly uninterested and not bothered at all about there being a chicken in the house. I found an eyedropper and every little while tried to get her to take some water. She was not interested. We made her as comfortable and warm as we could and tiptoed around the house so as not to disturb her.
Saturday morning it was clear she was dying. James and I took turns holding her for a while and crying over her. Then we put her back in the box and left her in a bright window so she could enjoy some sunshine for a little while longer.
The business of dying takes a long time. She pretty much slept all day, opening her eyes only briefly if she happened to sense us looming over her. We’d talk quietly to her, gently stroke her soft head, and then leave her be.
When we went to bed Saturday night her breathing had became shallow and labored. We stroked her head and wished her a good journey. When we got up this morning she was dead.
James called her Scarer of Hawks and Eater of Elderberries. There was no question about where we would bury her. James dug a deep hole beneath the elderberry. And now she will become part of the elderberry tree. And the cherry tree too, which is only a few feet away and which she also loved.
The weather this weekend has been unseasonably warm and Elinor, Margaret and Mrs. Dashwood, all in various stages of molting themselves, have been out in the garden enjoying the warm sun, scratching in the dirt, and finding no end of surprises including some tasty sunchokes.
I plan to be back again soon with garden harvest news and photos. In the meantime, I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!
That’s so sad, but she had a great life with you and James, what a lucky chicken she was, and a great character.
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So sorry to hear about Marianne. I absolutely can understand crying over an animal one has spent time with. It sounds like she had a good life.
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So sorry to hear about Marianne. I absolutely can understand crying over an animal one has spent time with. It sounds like she had a good life.
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Oh I’m so sorry. As soon as I saw the blog post title I feared the worst. She lived bravely and beautifully, from the way you described her, and it sounds like her death was the best possible one she could have. Good for you for treating her with such love and dignity. Thankyou for sharing this story with us.
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Sorry to hear the news about Marianne I know how special she was to you & James 😦
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Condolences. She was a lovely chicken.
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Oh, Stefanie, I’m so sad. You and James love your chickens and take such good care of them, but that doesn’t ease the pain much, does it? My heart goes out to you both. She was a beautiful chicken.
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I’m so sorry. I think you both gave her the best possible life for a hen!
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I’m so sorry to hear that. I always feel very down when I loose one of my fishes, and they’re not nearly as personable as a chicken. It sounds like you did your best to ease her passing. Do the other Dashwoods miss her? I wonder if you will add a few new gals to your flock.
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Poor sweet girl; I’m glad she was able to leave this earth in comfort. One of my chickens, Harriet, is a bit skinny and frail even though she’s young. I’m nervous for her this winter — last night we dipped down to 26 and she’s molting, I was concerned when I got up this morning but she was out looking perky. I had given her some B12 yesterday and she got to roam around and pull up worms, her favorite thing. Hoping that helped her. We love our animal companions so! May your other girls bring you comfort.
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So sorry Ibenjoyed reading about her activities.She had a wonderful life and was loved .Thiughts are with you,
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I’m so very sorry, Stefanie. You and James gave her a wonderful life and a good death. It’s so hard to love and let go of an animal companion.
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So sad reading your account of the passing of Marianne. My condolences. Just too bad all your love and James’ playing Colonel Brandon couldn’t turn around her fate. Glad though that you’re back. Good to hear your voice. All best wishes to the remaining Dashwoods and you too, stay safe and healthy!
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Thank you everyone for you kind words. You all are the best ❤
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Oh, poor Marianne. How sad. And sad that the other birds could not be with her given how much of their lives had been shared; i don’t understand how birds do and do not want to keep company with the ailing among their own, although I know that cats will often keep vigil, nearby. But it’s fortunate that Marianne was so comfortable with the two of you so that she was in company, and warm and safe, on that final Saturday. Thank you for sharing her/your story.
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Thanks BuriedinPrint. Yeah, chickens are deceptive, they seem so silly and congenial but they can be, and are, sometimes very cruel to each other. Cutting Marianne out of the flock as she became ill probably has some sort of flock preservation thing behind it and makes sense to them even if to us it seems cruel. We are glad we were able to give Marianne some peace and safety in her final hours.
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