Pain in the Silence

Silence is golden.  Most of the time I would agree with that old adage.  Silence brings a peacefulness that allows your mind to wander and think great thoughts.  But when silence takes over where there once was noise, there is an awkwardness in the air, one that only time will heal.  I went through this feeling several months ago when Jack became ill.  Coming home to an empty house took me weeks to get over.  Now it seems I am also to become the owner of an empty yard as well.  In the past 2 weeks I have lost all 3 of my hens.  The quiet seems to be everywhere.  I entered into raising chickens with the knowledge that all kinds of things could take them out - raccoons, opossums, disease.  They gave me 2+ years of fun - watching them grow from chicks to pullets to hens, laying eggs first in the laying boxes but then what turned into our daily egg hunts, feeding and watering them became one of our daily pleasures with the day care kids.  I will miss the girls but mostly their clucking and waddling out to greet us as we came through the gate.  Today the emptiness hit me like a ton of bricks.  As I was raking up the wayward feathers there was a deadly silence interrupted only by the scratches of the squirrels scurrying up the redwoods.  So that's what is left of "Grandma's farm."  But, fear not, the chickens will be replaced next week.  3 more baby chicks have been ordered and should arrive on Tuesday.  However, I'm not sure this group will be named.  For one thing, it's too hard to tell them apart and for another the next time I have to say good-bye to an animal I'd rather not call it by name.