Back in March we bought 13 baby chicks. We picked a varied of chicks because we wanted different eggs. One type was a Bantam. We had two, but one died. The one that lived, well she had a rough road. Bantams are smaller chickens. But they are beautiful birds. Because she was smalller, she was picked on by the other chickens. The awesome part, she's turn around and kick up things at the other chickens to keep them off of her. She was fast, and could fly higher then the other chickens. I named her Fiesty Pants, because she was fierce and my absolute favorite.
I was gone, but when I got home Skye told me a hawk had attacked Fiesty Pants and killed her. He said that he didn't see the attack, but she must have put up a fight because the hawk didn't take off with her. He buried her out in the grass. Where he buried her he found a horseshoe, while digging her grave.
I know it's just a chicken. But she was my chicken. Seems like everything I touch withers away sometimes. Just makes me sad. Poor Fiesty Pants! Breaks my heart.
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