You are gone, truly gone. I had hoped you might be off on a little vacation, maybe discovered true love in a neighboring hen yard, or had decided to roost in a nearby tree. But alas it was not to be. It took me four days of searching, but finely I stumbled upon the crime scene. Your golden feathers lay scattered about, proof you put up a valiant fight, the enemy... a fox. The hen yard is not the same without you. I fear dear Charlotte will not get over your absence, she remains in the corner of the hen yard, patiently waiting your return. All hope is gone, it is not meant to be. Such is the life of a chicken keeper, a sad chicken keeper. Goodbye my sweet girl.
Halloween Party, 1956
5 hours ago