Dear Fork… (A Letter To My No. 3 In Command Chicken)
I’m writing this letter to let you know that – for the last 14 months, 3 weeks and 1 day – you have bought joy to my life and entertained me with your feathery shenanigans. In fact, there have been so many funny incidents that it’s been really difficult for me to choose my top three but here they are anyway:
Do you remember, when I first got you, how you’d chase me across the lawn each morning while I was still in my nightie? Yes, it was food you were wanting – not me – but I didn’t know that, did I? No, because I was new to this chicken-keeping game.
And what about the day you attempted to de-bobble the back of my brand new jumper as I was sat cross-legged on the grass feeding Floppy, Semi and Pam? (I wondered where you’d got to, you know. You weren’t hungry, I thought; or you were scared of me. Didn’t realise that you were right behind me stripping the fibres of my prized pink woolly, bold as you like.
And I can’t tell you how many times you had me in stitches because you’d – somehow – managed to flick a dried worm, a pineapple chunk or some other tasty morsel onto your own back and then proceed to wander – totally unawares – around the garden.
Actually, that’s right. I can’t tell you, can I? No, because you passed away today day, quick as you like; peacefully and (thankfully) with no apparent pain.
But I think you know how much you meant to me, Fork, don’t you? So, have fun… wherever you are, oh, and, errr… stay c-lucky.
Love from Q x