RIP Mama Cass, you sweet chicken girl

Baaaak, bak bak. In a very low growl. That's Mama Cass Elliot talking to me last night. She was thanking me for her treats. I was tearing up. Because it was cass's last treats and I knew it. I don't have a last photo of her, this one will have to do. It doesn't show you how big she got. You all know, Cass was a meat chicken. She was supposed to get real big and die at six weeks. She had been alive since Easter. It was a long life for a meat chicken. A nice life. A good life.

Meat chickens. Do not ever make the mistake I made. She was a tiny ball of yellow fluff when I got her. I never thought about breeding, she was just cute. She grew too fast, it was abnormal and I knew it. It astounded me and grossed me out thinking about the breeding it took to make her this way. The whole thing is gross and unnatural, what commercial breeders do to animals in the name of faster food. Cass got bigger and bigger. Every one who ever saw her would stare and most would question me or make a statement. Man, that's a BIG chicken. And I'd have to explain.  I knew she wouldn't be here long and so, I always treated her special. She was always my favorite and even when I was in the worst mood, I always smiled when she'd come waddling out to greet me. She loved being petted and hugged. I was her favorite animal too. She loved me and I appreciate that. She could barely walk in the end. She was just too big. Her belly always dragged on the ground.

The belly. Oh my. It was supposed to be wrapped in butcher's plastic and have a 'broiler' label on it. Instead, it drug on the ground until no feathers were left. Only sore, red flesh. She loved it when I'd pick her up every afternoon and hose her sore belly with cool water. We have had an unusual Summer here with all the water and heat. The flying insects are massive and hungry. Every evening before I put the chickens to bed, I would rake any debris and spray the pen with flying insect killer. I worried about the chemicals, but, I knew how bad the flies were. I put fly paper at all the corners. It was always full. I also doused them occasionally with the organic lemon spray. But, in the end, the flies got her. It couldn't be stopped because she always had wounds. In the end she was also egg bound with her first egg. I could feel it in her vent. The flies in her wounds hatched, she had maggots. It was bad. At first, I tried to put on plastic gloves and get them out manually. I tried peroxide and dawn dish soap. Past that, I didn't want to put anything on that would cause her pain. And I knew, anything I did was temporary. I could not change the way science made her.

I went to get the hatchet. Think what you will of me. But, she was MY pet and I loved her, so her end was MY responsibility. I was going to do what I thought was the best, quickest thing to end her prolonged death sentance. The hatchet is kept with other tools on my mother's porch. It was gone. My mother had hidden it. Hmm. No matter what I said, she wouldn't give it back, claiming she knew what I'd do. She had seen it all and knew and she believed it would be too traumatic for me. I fail to believe she gives one shit about me, but, crazy as it sounds, she did love that old, fat hen. I gave up on my mom, maybe because I didn't really want to do it right at that moment, maybe because I knew she actually thought if we waited until Monday the vet could 'fix' the hen. Nothing could fix the hen. Anyone with a brain could see that. I gave up and isolated Cass to one of those giant boxes (Hey a use for them, finally!). I put an old metal barred table in front, the back had a big hole, so she had plenty of ventilation. I gave her fresh water, feed and her favorite foods, a big hunk of watermelon she didn't have to share and some smashed grapes. Mama Cass was a very vocal chicken. Her voice was always the one that cracked me up. If she had been in pain, she would have told me. She indicated she was uncomfortable, but, not in great pain. The box was in shade, I covered it with a tarp on top. She seemed to like it. It wasn't too hot last night. Threatening rain that never came, it was pleasant. I decided I would just buy a hatchet when the farm store opened today. But, nature did the deed for me. She was dead this morning and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The other chickens are upset. They are the ones who told me Cass was failing and led me to her yesterday. Today, they passed up breakfast. That has never happened before and they are acting all weird and nervous. I know they are grieving in their own way. I don't give a shit what anyone says.

I buried her to the left here. Under the clothes line, it was one of her hang outs. Not too much sentiment, there was already a hole there I needed to fill in. I just enlarged it. I mean, come on, let's not get all carried away here. I know she was a chicken. Not 'just' a chicken though. She was my fat quacker and I will miss her welcoming quack and her waddle when she came to greet me. I am so glad she's finally gone to Rainbow Bridge, I really am. Cripes, no animal should be genetically altered. It just isn't right. It will be a long time before I eat chicken again. But, I will. Bye mama cass Elliot, my big, fat, waddling Quacker. Now, I have to go buy pet food and school supplies. Is anyone else having trouble with the school supply list? I'm not sure what some of this shit is. Doh.

Dude is going to need a back hoe. Are you wondering if I really could have done it? Wonder no more. I would have done it. Oh, and this part is nice, all the treats were gone this morning. She enjoyed them. She ate that watermelon right down to the thinnest rind. I'm glad she enjoyed it. I am also glad the other chickens turned out to be normal sized. Fate.