This is Skipper . . .

Why does this matter?
Skipper was my sons chicken.  He picked her out of a bundle of hens we had gotten from a neighbourhood farm.  He hasn’t had much luck with picking chickens, as most of his turn out to be roosters.

But Skipper was a hen.

As my son says, she was the perfect chicken.  She was just small enough to carrying, but not so small that she wouldn’t get hurt.  She was the perfect colour, and easy going.

We lost Skipper this summer to illness.  She just fell asleep on us.

Now, we have had chickens die on us before, and even “donated” our roosters to the cause, but for some reason my little dude just can’t let go of Skipper.

Every day he mentions how much he misses his Skipper, and last night we both shared tears and sobs about this little hen.  To him, Skipper is irreplaceable.

I was getting concerned about my kids over the last few months and their easy acceptance of death. I was starting to wonder if they had lost some of the deep connections with animals that I had always had, instead just accepting that they are short lived and grouping them as a flock, vs individual souls.

With our Skipper experience I see the depth of connection my son had with her, and how much her loss has affected him. While it is so very, very sad that we couldn’t save Skipper, I am grateful that my son has had the chance to feel this deeply about death and loss.

Because when we get to feel those feelings we appreciate life so much more.

Skipper is gone, but she left behind one little chick named Misty. I am trying to help my little guy see the hope and beauty in that, and to find the “skipper” in Misty.