Orchid flowers, and flies, in the spirit world.

Photo copyright Aji, 2019; all rights reserved.

I can't tell you now which of the solid black ones she is in that photo, but she was one of what I think were originally a total of ten Australorps, if memory serves. We lost a couple early on; baby chicks have a tendency to step all over each other, completely oblivious. We were down now to seven, thanks to the ferals last year. And now, Orchid flowers, and flies, in the spirit world.

Her name came from her feathers: An Australorp, she was glossy and black, with iridescent undertones of purple and green, like a black orchid. She was, if I remember correctly, the second-largest (the largest being Jade, of the black face and green-black feathers), She was a big beautiful girl and a prolific layer, always happy with her world.

This time, there's no grave to dig, nothing to send with her on her journey. She was grabbed by yet another starving feral dog, this one barely more than a pup herself, but likely still trying to feed a litter of puppies without any milk left, from the looks of it. Wings had run up to Seco for a moment, and when he came back, she was waiting inside the gate. She had an injured eye, was terribly skinny, and also scared, so he came and got me to look after while he ran into town to pay a bill.

We fed and watered her, and she was a happy, wiggly bundle of love, when she wasn't shying away as though afraid of being hit. Little red hound girl with perfect white teeth and a badly swollen and inflamed lacrimal caruncle in her right eye. I called our friend who does local rescue, she got a temporary placement at our vet's, and I was going to grab the leash to hook her up when suddenly she bolted, cornered Orchid, grabbed her, and took off like a shot to the northeast. I was astounded that such a small dog could grab such a large chicken by the midsection (second-largest of the 'lorps), securely, and run so fast without a single slip. Starving puppies are a great motivator to a mother dog, though. My only hope is that the first bite, when she grabbed her, did the job, because I didn't hear a peep out of the poor little girl. Oh, yes, you're damn right I chased her, but with my asthma? And the rest of them were so freaked that it took more than an hour (in 80-degree heat) to corral them all and get them back in the coop; I was still at it when Wings got home, increasingly sick in body and soul.

At any rate, I failed poor Orchid terribly, and for that I won't forgive myself. No more strange ferals loose here, even for a moment. And now, there are only fifteen our of girls left.

I'm so sorry, Orchid. We love you, baby girl. Your sisters are waiting to welcome you.



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