I know I haven't posted here in ages and probably wont again for a while.
I had to kill one of my chickens today. A pair of foxes got in last night, killed one outright and were disturbed before killing the other. They broke in by going up through the floor of the nest boxes which aren't nailed in place. They kind of slot into the sides and sit on a rail around the inside. Not in a million years would I have considered that a possibility. She was very badly wounded, couldn’t stand and had a few wounds. At three this morning I tried to wring her neck. It didn’t work. It is surprisingly tough to do and not what you see of TV or imagine it to be like. Thoughts of trying to suffocate her or some other humane means went trough my head. As it was I left her till morning; made her comfortable (she didn’t show signs of distress oddly) and locked the coop up tight. Then, come this morning wrapped her in a towel, laid her out with neck outstretched and with the sharp edge of a brick brought swiftly down in one hard, fast, sharp blow crushed her neck and killed her outright. I still cant think how to kill a bird as quick or humanely with no specific tools to hand. It is a strange feeling; I was expecting to feel disgusted and aghast at the ease at which it all took place. Instead I feel nothing.
Then the gods were there. Or ungods. Something was there at that moment; something dead, something that smelt of decay and the near future. I actually found myself asking forgiveness – I don’t know exactly who from, but I knew that it wasn’t right what had happened. The cogs kick in and I guess the base things that drive us take over. I said words, went inside and washed my hands more than I think I have ever done. I put the clothes I was wearing in the washing machine and they are now drying on the radiator.
This wasn’t a death that was meant to be, it wasn’t a death that was done properly. It wasn’t a good death.