My Little Red Hen

When I was about the ages of 8-10 years old we moved to a little town where there were little farms & horse property etc. It was the best time in my childhood since that was the time I had my own farm pets to care for. The first thing we got were chickens...well, eggs actually. I had the opportunity to watch the chicks hatch from their little eggs... all except one could not get out by itself. So I took it upon myself to help it out by taking some of the shell off, enough to give the chick a chance. She made it out! After a time, the other chickens started to attack her. To our surprise the little hen I helped out was a runt with a crooked neck. ( The others didn't like her because she was little and different) I will never forget when I went out one morning to feed them...the others were attacking her, I opened the gate and she ran into my arms. I took her under my wing from then on. My dad built a little cage home all her own where she would be safe and sound, without anyone picking on her. She was a funny little thing, who followed me like a chick would follow her Mama. She would come by her name ( DUSTY), she would sleep in my room, eat human food, ride on my bike handle bars and she even rode our horse. She was a delight!

Every morning I would let her out to run the yard while I fed and watered the dogs, the cats, the rabbits, the guinea pig, the chickens, and horses before going off to school. Every day she would be waiting for me when I got home. About two years went by, she had never laid an egg until one day I stuck my head in her nesting box, there she sat looking at me, clucking as if she was trying to talk to me. She lifted up her little bum and there it came... she popped out one little egg right in front of me. I was amazed, I watched it harden and ran to tell my Mother what Dusty had showed me. That was the one and only egg she ever laid. One morning I went out to feed and water everybody as I did every morning. Dusty was picking in the grass. It was my birthday that day. I was so excited and in a rush I went off to school. I came home that day to the most horrific sight a child would encounter. I stood in my yard filled with little red feathers.. My heart sank... Where was Dusty? O my! I screamed and cried out, Dusty! It was my Dusty, the feathers were the only thing left from her. I had forgotten that morning to put her back in her house. Our dogs had killed her that day and I wasn't there to save her. It was the worst ( birthday ) day of my life. It took a long time to get over that sweet hen. I think about her often... She will be remembered always. Several months ago I bought the little painting above by Artist, Julie Haymaker Thompson of a little girl feeding her hens...though they are not red hens, it reminded me of my childhood hen. Someday I hope to have hens again. At least  for my children to experience the joy of raising them.. I would call one Dusty.