When you start a little hobby farm with laying hens, like mine, you go into it knowing there will be a loss. After all, nothing lives forever. But when it happens, it’s a strange feeling because it’s not quite like losing a pet. It’s pretty darn close, but the connection is different.

A few weeks ago, I lost a girl. A sweet, hand-raised blue Maran; she hadn’t yet reached a year old. It appeared her death was peaceful due to the way I found her. She most likely had issues I didn’t know about, and the bitterly cold January probably didn’t help.

As usual, I was a little heartbroken and shed a tear or two. My feathered friends are in my charge. I feel like I’ve failed them if they haven’t lived a Disney-like life and died naturally. Silly, I know.

Over the years, I’ve lost several birds, some to sickness, most to preditors. Honestly, I haven’t had any die of old age yet.

The first bird I lost, Gladys, was due to sickness. She died in front of me. It was a little traumatic. I cried like a baby while I buried her in the backyard. Since then, I’ve developed thicker skin. It’s still hard, all the same, there are always tears, and it makes my heart heavy.

Not something I talk about a lot, loss (people that know me – know Kleenex are usually at arm’s length at any given time, haha). Although, it’s the only sure thing in life and a sure thing on a hobby farm. It’s just moving forward and learning from it. And hopefully, the occurrences of it are few and far between.