File that under “Things I never thought I’d text.”

This post is morbidly amusing, YMMV. You might choose to click away.

So, the other day, someone’s dog got into the chicken enclosure and killed half the chickens. If it had been a predator, the chickens would have been eaten, and they weren’t. So, it was someone’s dog. Not any of ours as it was a hot day and they were all of them inside during the entire time the incident occurred.

I helped my sister bury the chickens in a mass grave. The next day there was this scene:

So, okay. This is what buzzards do. It’s the circle of life, people.

It was sad to lose so many of the chickens, and I chose not to think about buzzard snacks.

Today, my sister asked me to lock up the chickens since we are babysitting my brother’s dogs and she is babysitting their cats and it all gets complicated. But I went down to lock up the chickens, and I counted them. Five. Which you, know, good. Because there should be five. Then I turned around and saw this:

Don’t look too closely. Trust me, it is a dead chicken.

This was unexpected. I recounted the chickens in the chicken coop. Five. At this point, I was missing certain important facts. Like, the day we lost the chickens, a sixth one did not expire until the next day– OK, I knew that, but I did not know my sister buried that one in the chicken enclosure instead of in or adjoining the mass grave. So I could not figure out how there could be the correct number of live chickens plus a bonus dead one. I decided I must have mistaken the correct number of live chickens and so texted my sister:

ME: How many chickens do we have?
Sister: Five
Sister: Why?
Me: Ok there are five in the chicken coop and a dead on in the pen.
Sister: Unburied one? Cuz we should have five live ones
Me: Am going to count again
[I recounted. Still five. Below is a rotten picture. If it were less terrible, there would be 5 visible very alive chickens.]

[Then I walked over to the chicken grave and saw that it was empty. There was a crater where we buried the bodies. This is the opposite of a grave.]

Me: did u dig up the chicken grave?
[I texted her this picture]

The night we buried the chickens, I covered the MOUND of dirt with the cinder blocks to keep the dogs from digging them up. You will notice that there is no mound of dirt. There is a crater full of cinder blocks. There are also no chickens, dead or alive.

Please refer to picture number one. Buzzards are efficient bastards.

Take a note, never ever ask me or my sister to bury bodies. We suck at it.

Me: Did u dig up the chicken grave?
Sister: No how many chickens.
Me: Five live chickens.
Sister: Gross something digging them up.
Sister: Q
[Because she can barely use her phone, that’s why.]

Me: 1 dead one back in the chicken pen. Also badger hole.
[Because at this point, I still do not know the last chicken had been buried in the chicken enclosure. I was trying to figure out how a dead chicken got from the mass grave back into the chicken pen. And this hole, it looks a lot like a badger den, which we had like 10 of in the other field when the young badger was learning how to dig a proper den. I was exceedingly confused and creeped out.

Sister: |
[Because she cannot use her phone]
Sister: Ignore last two text.
Me: Badger is bringing them back???
Sister: Maybe? I buried one in the pen.

Oh. So not a badger hole. An excavated grave. That is somewhat less horrifying than the thought of a badger somehow burrowing around from the mass grave to the chicken pen and then throwing a dead one back.

I had by then gotten a shovel and the wheelbarrow and had scooped up the dead chicken… which, by the way, did not stink until I moved it.

Me: What????
Me: Because stinky !!!
Sister. I bet burying ?
Sister: I really don’t want to rebury hens.
Me: Ok I put the unburied chicken in the wheelbarrow and left it outside enclosure covered with grass.
Me. Maybe the buzzards will eat it.

Sister: Ok gross again would that be re unburied?
Sistser: On my way home
Me: OK. I am not burying that chicken tonight. It stinks and has no head.
Sister: It is going to stink tomorrow too.
Me: Yes but Nathaniel can rebury it.
Me: I am the best mom ever
Sister: Yes you are pls it is only fair.

That was my night tonight.

Jesus.

I’m filing this under “writing” because I can totally use this somewhere. Somehow.