Not even their pleading eyes could sway the heart of the old farmer. The oldest went out. Then the middle. They pleaded their case. Let him live! I asked him if Grandpa heard. "No, he did not listen to me." Yes, he looked them in the eye, but his heart was not moved. And so the axe sliced the life out of Favorite Lightning Squeak. Yep, our special, unique chicken is no more.
He was the leader, always first out the door in the morning. He lead his brood from one tasty bug feast to the next. He clustered his hens to him. They gathered warmth from his feathers.
But, no one likes the idea of fertilized eggs and this was soon going to become a reality. More than once this last week my boys noticed some strange chicken fighting, so I guess the best was done. (We did have a good discussion about monogamy and divorce from this and how animal don't get married. Good times.)
We promised my oldest a duck. They both seem fine and hardly jaded from death of their beloved pet. I think I was the one who wanted it to be their "beloved" pet while they had not really bonded with the guy much at all.
I'm still not going to eat him though. When my husband placed his butchered body in the sink I just couldn't do it. I put him in the freezer, but I think he may be boiled and served to the cats. I know, too much information.