Henry was hit by a truck yesterday, and is now resting in peace under the earth. I figured that he would probably meet this end, what with his unhealthy habit of greeting all of the fast-moving cars on the highway in front of the house. Plus, I just had to go and name him, get attached to him. He was becoming somewhat of a pet, so his loss sucks pretty bad. Yes, I cried after I buried him. The worst part of it is that the boys saw him get hit, and the guy driving the red truck who hit him didn’t even slow down. I don’t know if he saw us standing there or not, but either way I still think he should have stopped. I don’t know what he could have said to me. Maybe something like “I’m sorry I was flying so fast and not watching where I was going because that chicken should have been visible for at least a half a mile, and if it were a child…” Well, thank goodness it wasn’t one of the kids, although my two year old tries his darndest to get out in the road when I turn my attention from him for just a moment.

I’m still upset about it. I had hoped to be able to breed our own chickens, but without a rooster I don’t see how that will be possible. And Henry was such a gorgeous bird, with his shiny golden feathers and green eyes. I guess living on a farm, I will just have to get used to things like this, but that doesn’t make it any easier.