Then there were Eight.

When H went out to feed grapes to the geese, she noticed a couple of our chickens looked dead. When she told me I was sure they were just resting because of the heat, but when I went out to look I realized she was right. More right than she realized. There were actually four dead chickens, not just the two she had noticed.

WTF?

Best guess, the extreme heat we've had over the past few days (117 yesterday) was too much for them.

Three of them were from the new batch we got last October, this was their first summer. The other was one of our older ones, so I'm not sure about her.

What's worse than digging a hole to bury four dead chickens during a very hot day? Getting eaten alive by the ants you disturbed in the process.

Sigh. Long day.



Autumn our Speckled Sussex.
RIP.



One of these two Americanas.
Either Pepper or Black and White Rainbow.
I can't tell them apart anymore.
RIP.


Midnight Moon, S's Giant Cochin.
RIP.


Our older one, H's Rose, a New Hampshire Red.
RIP.


I never realized how few photos I'd been taking of the chickens lately, till I tried to find some for this post.