Friday, February 08, 2013

Sad and Sadder

In the "bad news" department, one of my Leghorn hens, Eliza, died Sunday.  She probably suffered from bound egg syndrome; this happens when a hen cannot pass an egg.  I hope I didn't stress her more by giving her a warm soak.  That's supposed to help.  But she wasn't used to being handled.

When one of my chickens dies, I generally burn the body in a bonfire.  I either have to bury the chicken deeply to keep the carcass away from predators, or I have to burn it.  Burning is easier for me, and it's less risky.

We're all a bit sad here at Casa Smith.

Things are going fine, otherwise.  The girls are getting through their molts, and the egg production has picked up.

I'm hoping I can get through the year without another chicken death.  I also hope I can get through the spring without buying more chickens!

February 9, 2013

My mother called today to tell me that my Uncle Tony (Anthony Rigaud) died this morning.  His is the second death in two weeks--my mom's oldest brother, my Uncle Christie, died in January.  His wife, my Aunt Agnes, died last year.

Uncle Tony was the most wonderful, funniest man I've ever known.  He was married to my dad's sister, Patricia.  Tony could fix anything, build anything, imagine anything.

Until Katrina.

My uncle opted to stay in his house in St. Bernard Parish with my aunt and my cousin, David.  He had no clue that the levees would break and force them into the attic of their home.  They had weathered many hurricanes, and, though this one seemed serious, he and his wife felt they could survive it.

They did, but not by much.  They spent quite some time in the attic before rescue.  My cousin started having seizures because he didn't have his medicine; he and my aunt went by helicopter to Lafayette.  My uncle spent some time in the high school in St. Bernard before being bused to Texas.  We thought we'd never find him, or my aunt and cousin.

After that, my Uncle Tony just seemed to give up.  According to my mom and my daughter, he just sat in his recliner in the living room.  He developed congestive heart failure--my aunt, also.  I didn't want to see him that way.

I'll always remember him as larger-than-life, a big Italian man who could do anything, who always made me laugh.

I have missed him for a long time.

1 comment:

April Johnson said...

I have always wanted a chicken. Well I have always wanted a farm. Not a giant farm, but one with just a few farm animals. Most likely I will have a dog farm, because I am always wanting a new dog, but I live in an apartment and there is hardly enough room for myself, fiance, and our dog Trigger.
I am sorry to hear about your chicken Eliza. I have lost two dogs, 1 hamster, and too many fish to count. Animals always find a special place in our hearts even if they aren't the types to play or cuddle!