Gidget just died in my arms, contorted, flapping and crying, just like Pip. I know the risks we take by letting our girls free rnage, especially living so close to an intersection, and I accept those risks.
I only wish she had died outright, and been spared her 30-hour death. I really thought she was going to make it; she seemed so much better this morning. I have to wonder if she had an egg break inside her.
The ground is still workable enough to allow us to bury her in our chicken cemetery tomorrow, next to Pip.
She was only eight months old.