This one is for Blackie, my sweet chicken.
Blackie probes the ground for bugs at a family reunion earlier this month.
Blackie went to Jesus. It’s ok, because he’s much happier now. Maybe in heaven he can get some feathers back on his head. It was sad because he just had a skull with no skin or feathers. We had to keep him in the house and even take him camping with us. He seemed like he was doing okay, but then Mumma wend downstairs and he was dead. I was really sad that he died, but he’s happier now. Mumma buried him before she told me about it so I wouldn’t be so sad. I love you, Blackie.
[Dad’s Note: For what it’s worth, Blackie’s last days were happy ones. Bridger walked him every day. He lived like a king in a bird cage in the house. He went camping and fishing with us, and feasted on top notch scratch.]
A shot I took with my cell phone just days before Blackie was violently attacked by a murderous chicken, who at Bridger's request will remain nameless.
The Dinosaur Boy 