A week ago we noticed that Marge wasn’t loudly complaining. That should have had us worried. A few days ago, Steve noticed that Marge was having a hard time hopping up and out of the pop-hole door. I thought that she was just getting old and stiff. But today she died. (I will post more, maybe next week, about this.)
Marge came to Little Pond Farm in the fall of 2004. A friend in town bought the “rainbow layer” assortment from Murray McMurray. Twenty-five were too many for her. She sold half for $4 each, and gave the money to Heifer International. We took six. It turned out that two were New Hampshire Reds – Marge and Petunia.
For the last 5 1/2 years, Marge has been a loud presence in our backyard. She was a sturdy, basic brown hen, but there was nothing plain about her personality. She talked. She told you what she thought – which was usually in the lines of, “more bugs!” and “that’s for me!” and “pay attention!” and, “bring it here!” She also announced when she was going into the coop and when she was leaving. For a few years, she laid eggs every day, and she let us know that she had done her job, very well thank-you, and she should have a reward for it. Lately she hadn’t been laying, but she said she still deserved her reward, and we agreed.
It’s going to be a lot quieter here without her. Petunia will miss her, and so will I.