When we first started the chicken adventure, having a rooster was something we debated.  We didn’t need one, especially since we weren’t planning on hatching out any chicks; and we weren’t certain we wanted to listen to the crow.  But we did it anyway, thinking we would enjoy it and the kids would learn something.

What the kids learned was that roosters can be mean.  Roody has never been sweet, but over the last few months, he’s become impossible.  We’ve tolerated him because I was determined to keep him.  But then, a couple of weeks ago, he got Donovan on the head.  I was done.  Not only that, but he’s been terrorizing a couple of my black hens, and between the two events, he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

The problem is, no one wants an aggressive rooster.  Who wants to be attacked?  I sure don’t.  I have bruises from simply going out to treat them. There’s only one option once they get this way.  And Roody has steadily gotten worse, to the point that now he’s a challenge for Scott.

We thought about killing him ourselves, but the kids threw a fit and said they wouldn’t eat him.  I’m not saying that in the future, we won’t kill chickens, but for right now, I couldn’t do that with the kids saying no.  So I found someone at school to take him.

I hate it, but there’s no other option.  Killing him and just disposing of the body seems a waste.  He needs to serve some purpose other than bullying everybody, which he’s very good at.

On the positive side, we’ll pick up a few more hens to raise.  I’m excited about that.  The sex links are wonderful and so are the easter eggers.  But still…I’ll miss Roody.  Even if he is a pain.

I knew this year would be hard.  This is the first Christmas without Charlotte.  I keep thinking about the first Christmas she was with us and how much we enjoyed having her and Baxter here.  She seemed to understand so many things and we were so excited to have her.  It really doesn’t seem tat long ago, which is so unfair.  I wanted her with me longer than this.  That’s the risk you take with rescued animals.  You never know how long you have with them.

To make matters worse, we got a Christmas card from one of the first families we did an adoption with.  They adopted our foster, Betty Boop, a retired breeder.  Betty was such a little queen bee.  I’ll dig up pictures of her and post them later.  They also adopted a dog named Griffin, one of the prettiest bassets I’ve ever seen.  Scott and I delivered him after Christmas (it actually snowed that year) as a gift for their daughter, Ashley.  Griffin and Betty both past this year.

Add to that the news I got that the mother of our basset,  Christie, had to be put down this fall, and I think I’m at my limit.  These animals each touched my life in ways I’m not sure I completely understand.  Charlotte was such a big part of our lives and took us on the adventure of fostering.  She made things so much easier with her way of keeping everybody under control.  Betty was a little diva who was so glad to be loved rather than breeded.  Griffin…well, his story is even more complicated.  Let’s just leave it that he found someone to love him for who he was.  Christie’s mom, Izzie, had led an impossible existence in the puppy mill where Christie was born.  In rescue, she was happy and safe and content.

In the end, I know they all were loved and cared for.  It hurts that they’re gone and that they had to go through so much in their little lives.  I tell myself that those last years were so pampered, somehow it must balance out.  I look at my crew and know their time will come and pray for the strength to get through it.  All rescues, all with different stories, all with rough starts to a life that now provides everything they want or need.  But it doesn’t seem to make up for where they’ve been or what people put them through.

So, Miss Charlotte, I know those puppies are in good hands because you were there to meet them.  I know you have guided them into fields full of sunshine and chewies.  But sweetie, your mommy still misses you so very, very much.  I love you, Charlotte Elizabeth.