The chickens have gone on to live in a retirement community. This is strange for me because every single morning and nearly every evening for the last seven years, I have based my decisions and my movements on keeping them safe, watered, and fed.

I wonder how long that habit will take to undo itself – how many times I’ll make it out to the garage before I realize they’re not in their run.

It’s not sad – it’s a glorious relief. The chickens are loud and they weren’t consistently laying any longer. And one of the girls has an identity crisis where she likes to pretend she’s a roo. I’m sure my neighbors loved us even more for that fact.


I never had an emotional attachment to them. Still, they were well cared for and I was their human. I did everything I could to make sure their lives were happy and healthy.

But we’re moving one day in the future. And we’re ready to get rid of everything we are not taking with us.

So when the opportunity arose, I jumped on that.

Grateful for the people who were willing to make that drive for us with the giiiiirls.

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