Poor Sick Chick died last night.
She was a lovely old ex-battery hen, the most vocal, and gentle, of the original four.
She liked nothing better than to scratch around and chatter to us as we worked.
We shall miss her, so will Little Red Hen.
She lies buried in the middle of Owl Wood.
I realise that to non-hen people this is a fuss about nothing. Our rescued, rescue hens were great little characters who showed us that big personalities can also come in small, feathery packages.
A hen is not 'just a hen'.