RIP Bowie (Patreon)

Sorry to dump super sad stuff but I need to do this.

I don't know where to start on this so I'll just start. Bowie disappeared on the morning of the 31st without a trace. Not a single feather, drop of blood, track, sign of a struggle, no evidence whatsoever of what happened or where he went. We were concerned but seeing as he had a bad habit of hopping the electric fence to go and find bugs at the compost pile, we thought he might have gone a bit too far and perhaps would make his way back.

But days passed and I searched high and low in every nook and cranny of my farm as well as the neighbors' properties. Probably 100 acres at this point. Not a single shred of evidence of where he went. Nobody has seen him. At this point I must assume a very stealthy predator got him.

Normally chickens don't really have much personality but Bowie was an exception. We raised him from a chick. I had seen a bin of Polish chicks at one of the local farm stores and made a mental note. My woman had expressed interest in them so I told her about it and the next day we went back. Bowie was the only one left, and so we bought him and took him home to grow with the other chicks. At that time we had no idea if Bowie was male or female; it's hard to tell with Polish chickens until they get older.

He was tiny to begin with and he grew slower than most of the others, save one, who we named Chickenhawk because she looks like a hawk. When the other chicks were big enough to go outside, Bowie and Chickenhawk stayed inside to get bigger, and kept me company while I healed from my broken arm adventure. We watched the entirety of Stargate SG1 together.

The time finally came when Bowie and Chickenhawk were big enough to go outside and be real chickens. You basically put the new ones in the coop at night when the others are asleep, and they all wake up together like one happy family and minimal drama. Mostly. It was not a perfect integration but they did not get bullied much, and as the younger ones are fast enough to get away from the older ones, they did fine getting their food and water. Bowie and Chickenhawk were inseparable, and he took his share of hard knocks protecting her from the bigger chickens. At the end of their first full day out in the chicken yard, I went to check on them and they were so exhausted that they both jumped into my lap and promptly fell asleep.

As they grew up Bowie finally put on his big boy pants and crowed like a rooster. He took Chickenhawk hunting and kept an eye on her. They were always together, and as dumb as chickens can be, they do show gentle affection to each other and it was clear that they were sweethearts.

Bowie was always running out to greet us, eager to say hello in the morning, following us around while we did our chores. He would jump on your shoulder and go for walks. He was a drop of sunshine every time you went out there. He loved being a chicken and was an excellent hunter, spending most of his day in the tall grass chasing bugs. Few things made me smile like watching his little white head bobbing around out there. He was a daily source of joy and entertainment.

Part of the grief is not knowing where he went. I have visions of him screaming as he is taken away, or something quietly picking him up while he lay peacefully sleeping and carrying him off to his demise-- chickens sleep so deeply that you can just grab them without a fight. I don't know which is worse. They are both vivid horror in my mind. Mental imagery is a terrible curse.

Chickenhawk grieves as well in her own way. She has been quiet and withdrawn. The evening of the day Bowie went missing, she climbed up on the roof of the chicken coop to look for him. In the morning and evening she hops up on the perch where they would sun themselves and looks around trying to find him. It's heartbreaking to watch.

My heart has a gaping hole torn in it from his disappearance. I never thought I would be effected this much but it is what it is. Bowie was my special little guy and I treasured him. The mornings just aren't the same. I will miss him.