It was a normal Monday evening when I went out to feed the donkeys, this is a new routine for us since we didn’t used to feed any of our animals in the evening, but the donkeys came from a hard situation and they get fed twice a day to help them get healthy again, it’s a fun part of the evening since they are so vocal and get excited to see us.  All the chickens had already put themselves to bed, so I figured I’d round up the ducks and get them tucked in safely for the evening.

Since we moved everyone up to the north coops, we haven’t had many problems with predators. Everyone’s been thriving, or so I thought.

This evening was different. I saw a dark body lying on the ground, soft feathers moving in the wind. My first thought was that an owl had gotten one of the ducks. I thought it was one of our Cayuga ducks. From the angle I was standing, I couldn’t see its head, which is why I assumed owl. Owls tend to decapitate their prey because the head is the most nutritious part of the bird and easy to swallow whole since they lack teeth to chew. But why would an owl attack during the day? It was still light out, and owls are usually asleep.

As I got closer, I realized it wasn’t a duck at all, but one of our Turkens, a naked-neck chicken. We had two, and they were always together. We’ve had them about six years, and they were already full-grown when we got them, so who knows how old they really were.

One of the hardest parts of having farm animals isn’t just losing them, but figuring out how they died. In this case, I think one of the goats may have accidentally landed on her while jumping off the spool. They don’t always watch where they’re going. I didn’t notice any obvious injuries, so my best guess is she died from blunt force trauma.

Now, here’s where the story takes a turn.

I thought it was Tuesday evening. My days have been a bit mixed up since being laid off, so I put the chicken in the trash can and took the can out to the street, thinking the truck would come in the morning. When Chelsey got home, she gently reminded me it was only Monday.

So, the poor hen had to stay in the trash can an extra day. I would love to bury every animal we lose, but it is just not possible anymore. Processing her for meat was not an option either, since we did not know how long she had been lying there.

Lesson learned: always bag the bird first.

Fast forward to today, the actual trash day. We had wicked winds, 35 miles per hour with gusts up to 75, and the trash can would not stay standing. I finally left it on its side, figuring I would wait for the truck and stand it up when they passed the first time, since they always come back for our side of the street.

Well, the trash truck sneaked up on us. I noticed him pull up, and the can was still on its side. The driver tried to scoop everything back into the can and stand it up. Poor guy. He spotted the chicken and paused, clearly trying to figure out what he was looking at. He did his best to use the lid to push everything back into the can, but the chicken was not being cooperative. He left her on the ground, unloaded the can into his truck, and drove off.

I will be burying her now so we do not have to wait another week for the next trash truck.

So, what did we learn this week on the farm?
When you have to put a bird in the trash, always bag her up first. Poor garbage man.