Rouse said he forgot to tell me, but Barack didn't look so good last night when he opened up the chickens to free-range. He was a little "hunch-shouldered". In fact, as he thought about it Rouse recalled that the rooster was a bit lethargic coming out of the hen house on Sunday morning as well. So he was definitely showing signs of illness yesterday.
Personally, I was in a big hurry this morning. I had to get to my 8:15 yoga class. I ran out to the chicken yard, dumped the yuck-bucket (aka kitchen scraps), broadcast a good helping of two-grain scratch, and was surprised that the chickens weren't piling out of the coop as usual to get at all those goodies. It was a cold morning. Maybe they were reluctant to jump out into freezing temperatures?
But something else did get my attention. It was uncharacteristically quiet in the hen house. I heard some movement, but there was no cock crowing. I thought I'd better check in case some predator had created mayhem in the chicken house overnight. I cracked the door and looked in. I saw most of the chickens sitting quietly on the perches against the back wall and figured all was well. I didn't bother to actually account for each one of them, nor did I check the shelf where Barack and several of his ladies prefer to roost. What can I say? I was in a hurry. I suspect that Barack was either dead or dying at that point. That's where I found him later in the day ... in his favorite spot on the ledge in front of the window.
Barack took good care of his flock. We will miss his leadership in the chicken yard.
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