03/11/2026
Ode to a Hen
Lacy was never the friendliest hen in the yard. She kept her distance, carried herself with quiet dignity, and rarely suffered fools—feathered or otherwise. But she was lovely in a way that made you stop and look twice, her silver-laced feathers etched like fine filigree, as if each one had been carefully painted. She had presence.
Lacy came into our lives as one of nine tiny chicks, a birthday gift for Malcolm when he turned seven. That little flock was the beginning of so much learning, laughter, and backyard adventure. Over the years the flock changed, as flocks do. Hens came and went, chicks were hatched, personalities rose and fell in the pecking order. Through it all, Lacy remained.
She outlasted them all—the final survivor of that very first flock.
And what a life she lived along the way. Lacy endured more than her fair share of barnyard drama. She survived a dog attack, held her own among a band of overconfident guinea bullies, tolerated more than a few ridiculous roosters, and watched several generations of silly young chicks grow up under her steady, unimpressed gaze. If there was chaos in the yard, Lacy stood just outside of it, observing. She was never very sentimental about the world, but steadfast in it.
Eight years is a long life for a chicken, and Lacy earned every one of them. Recently she had begun to slow down, moving a little more deliberately, resting a little more often. The other night, she looked especially tired. By now, we recognize the signs. I placed her gently in a nesting box—one of the places that had been part of her daily rhythm for so many years. There, warm and safe, she passed peacefully.
For a hen who preferred her space, she leaves behind a surprising amount of it.
Lacy was the last living thread tying us to that first birthday flock and to the small, fluffy beginning of our family's chicken-keeping days. In losing her, we’re reminded how much life can grow from something as simple as nine chicks and a backyard coop.
Goodbye, Lacy. You were tough, beautiful, and entirely yourself. The coop will be quieter without you.