Doing the difficult...

Today I did something I would have bet you money I could not do.

I shot one of my chickens.

I have wanted to own chickens since I was 8 years old. I have had a small flock for 3 years now, and I love my them. They have names, a custom built coop, the best food I can buy, fresh water and a huge yard to range in. I love to watch them, pet them, care for them and I so enjoy collecting their eggs. It is like a treasure hunt every day.

One of the hens was mysteriously injured several weeks ago. She had a huge, ugly wound on her chest. I treated her, got her special pain medication from the Veterinarian and fretted. The wound slowly healed but the chicken refused to walk. I suspected internal injuries.

A while back another of our hens was injured and needed to be put out of her misery. I asked my stalwart husband to do the deed, and he did. But it bothered him a lot, for a long time. This time I decided that since the chickens were mine, I should take the responsibility for both the good and the bad. I waited till the other chickens were roosting, and then I carefully lifted my injured hen out of the coop. I thanked her for the beauty she had added to my life, and for the eggs she had given us. I stroked her lovely feathers. Then I put he barrel of my gun close to her head and pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed through my very soul.

And she was gone. The spark of life and intellect no longer gleamed from her dark eye. The beauty that was her was no longer a part of this planet. I offered her the very best life that I could, and then I took that life away when she was suffering. The important choices? They are difficult.