Concious Grief

Since the chicks were small I have sung them lullabies every night that I have put them to bed. They've come to expect it and -- like many little ones -- they always seem to ask for "one more". They've done this since they were still in their brooder. One night, back then, when the babies were tucked in I sang them more than one bedtime song. They'd fuss, wanting another, but on this particular night, as I forced myself to walk away from them, one little voice put up quite a lot of fuss. The brooder was covered with a blanket and I knew I should let her soothe herself but something just felt off and so I trusted my gut and quickly went back. When I flipped the blanket back I saw that Wet'Guinny had fallen off the perch and became jammed between the wall and their water container. She had been calling me for help and I heard her. I reached in and snatched her out of there and felt her little heart immediately begin to calm as I held her against my own. I knew in that moment that we spoke one another's language.

Wet'Guinny was the first of my flock that I held in my hands.  I have no favourites with my girls. I don't have "pets", I have relationships.  The hearts of my little flock are bursting with personality and love. 

Wet'Guinny always came to me for help. She ignored the instinct to mask any weakness and instead would walk right up to me, puff her feathers up, look up at me, and cry. I'd bend and scoop her up and the sound of her contented clacking would grace my ear as she knew I had understood her and was going to take care of her. No matter what came our way, we've always been able to save her. This time, I couldn't save her. I knew the moment she told me a couple nights ago that she didn't feel well, that this might be different. I didn't want to think that, but losing two of my babies this summer has put me on edge. I didn't leave her. I laid on the floor with her in the loft of the barn and kept a hand on her. A couple times, I sang her a lullaby. She looked right in my eyes the moment before she died and I stayed with her through it all.  The sounds I made in my grief in the moments afterwards didn't strike me as quite humxn. This was the third of my babies lost this season. It does not get easier.  I will love her forever.