Today we lost Lilac. She was one of the group of 12 hens that we named ‘The Laurels’ that were rehomed in May 2017 and she had over 11 months with us.
My lasting memory of Lilac will be of a sweet little hen that, last summer, decided she wanted to go broody, but then changed her mind. Each day we’d find Lilac in the nest box guarding the eggs; I’d lift her out – growling at me – then she’d run around for a few minutes squawking at the other hens until she could find a place to have a dustbath. She’d start to dig a hole for her bathing routine, then change her mind and find somewhere else more appealing, and she’d do this a few times before finding somewhere just right, then spend a little while rolling around in the dirt, before rushing back to the nest box – it was lovely to watch. This lasted a few weeks before she decided that she didn’t want to be a mother after all and went back to enjoying her outdoor life.
In the time we had her she was never ill, and as sometimes can happen, she died without warning in her sleep having appeared fine the previous day. Her last day was spent in the sunshine and warmth, free to do as she pleased, eating and drinking as much as she wanted.
Fly high sweet girl.