Last chicken standing

The four namesakes of my blog are steadily departing this mortal coil. We lost Peaches some time ago; discovered one morning, petrified and stiff in the pen after a brief life as a feral hen, roaming the shrubberies and roosting in the trees. I'm going with Sudden Chicken Death Sydrome.

MotMot slowed down so much that she stopped altogether.

Poor Grape is currently hanging on by a thread but I fear she will ultimately follow in MotMot's footsteps to the Great Chicken Coop in the Sky. With the temperature down to -5 or less at night, I've put her in a box in the kitchen so that at least she can die in peace and warmth. So far Dolly hasn't noticed, or I suspect her departure would be speeded up considerably. Eddie has kindly made the 'poultry shears motion', offering his own alternative path to a quick death.

Mitzi is the last hen standing. Bravely holding her own out there in the frosty garden, but worried about Grape, who she usually clucks around supportively, trying futilely to encourage her friend to find the will to live.

What next for my hen project? Do I wait for Mitzi to kick the bucket? Or find her some new friends to keep her company. Friends with furry feet perhaps...?

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