Another snippet of a genuine old school YA western which, in the fullness of time, will have all the usual trappings and cliches plus the slightest tinge of M/M romance because why not?
This week, more of the cruel realities of life.
A coyote got to the hens last night and killed two and injured one. He carried off the dead ones but the hurt one got up onto the roof of the pig pen.
She seemed okay at first but the coyote had ripped one of her wings clear off. I reckon it might have healed up but Ma reckoned it would be cruel to keep her. Pity because she was one of our best layers.
I did it easy so she didn’t know, just a hurt hen sitting quiet in my arms one moment and a floppy bundle of feathers the next. But there was meat aplenty on her so Ma showed me the trick of frying chicken and we put the bones in the stock pot. We saved the feathers too. Ma says there’s almost enough for a pillow. So our poor grey hen may have died but the only bit that was wasted was the cluck.