I don't really know why they call it "passing" when something dies. Sunday morning greeted us with another death in the chicken box. I was preparing for a shower, getting distracted by the chicks as usual. They were all doing well, eating, drinking, chirping, and pooping: their favorite/only activities. I was anxious to see them to make sure they were doing better than Francine had done. A mere 15 minutes from saying hi to them, I noticed Gertrude laying down. As far as I can tell, from my two days with them, chicks only lay down to die.

The chicks were doing fine last night, we made sure they were well equipped for the night and went to sleep. The quail were in the coop, a space far too big for them, but nonetheless, they fared well in the outdoors unlike the chicks. Kym was the first one awake on Saturday and burst in my room around 8 am. She informed me that my dearest Francine had passed during the night. I had a hard time sleeping any longer, so shortly thereafter I went to investigate.

Arrived at the farm in the morning greeted by emus and an array of birds. Kym and I took careful selection of our birds, choosing 4 chicks and 3 quail. The drive home was dedicated to naming them.

The Chicks:
Loretta: Jersey Blue
Evelyn: Feather-footed bantam random variety
Francine: American bantam
Gertrude: Buff-colored random variety

The Quail:
Maive: Tuxedo quail
Masi: Italian quail
Pippie: Red golden quail