Obituary for an Absurd Bird

Henny Penny passed away unexpectedly in the early hours of March 6. In lieu of flowers, donations can be sent to Smith Fork Ranch, where they will be used in the construction of a luxury high rise chicken coop in Henny’s memory. She is survived by her nemesis Scotty the cat, Nick, Nick Jr., Bea, CC, the half-tame fawn, and the five misfit horses and ponies she called her friends.

Henny Penny was never one to follow convention. When Henny and her three sisters arrived on the ranch, they immediately deemed their coop “unhabitable,” and moved instead into the saddle barn. Answering the call of their “inner cowgirls,” three slept snuggled on a suede saddle seat on the ground floor. Henny, shucking familial obligation, perched precariously on the top-floor saddle rack, featuring the bird’s eye view she preferred. A gap in the barn doors one night allowed a raccoon intruder access to their homes. One sister was brutally murdered, while the other two were terrorized and fled. Despite Henny’s protests, the remaining two sisters refused to roost near the scene of the tragedy, and made their home outdoors. Both disappeared shortly afterward. Although foul play has been suspected, no leads have surfaced, and the raccoon murderer has never been brought to justice.

Although deeply affected by the sad circumstances, Henny’s greater IQ prevailed, and she continued her customary habitation high above the reaches of potential predators.

As an “only child,” Henny flourished. When lonely, she would find a ranch hand to follow around, clucking away gaily at the barn gossip. She often spent time in Ciara’s office, sleeping soundly on Ciara’s lap, or pecking away at the phone or the pencil erasers. But Henny wasn’t often lonely. She spent the majority of her days expanding her horizons, trying new and gourmet foods, and assimilating flawlessly with the other animals on the ranch.

When the weather cooled, Henny moved into a large nesting box on the remodeled third-tier saddle rack she had previously inhabited, complete with fresh hay and a heat lamp. She truly loved her new home, and showed her contentment by continuing to lay eggs long after the days had shortened. She laid her last in February, just before deciding to move house. In typical Henny fashion, she bypassed the available saddle blankets, window sills and hay mangers for the relative luxury of a restored 1964 Land Rover, parked in the barn for the winter. In memorial of her sudden passing, this final home has been draped in black since her disappearance.

Although I am sad to have lost a friend, here was a chicken who lived life courageously, who knew no enemies, and who enjoyed every seed she pecked up to the fullest. Yes, Henny Penny knew the comfort of a heat lamp above her nest, but she also knew the excitement of challenging the ranch cats (and the half-tame fawn, the horses, Sadie, and any innocent bystanders) for control of the food supply. While most chickens find themselves content behind wire fences, Henny pushed the boundaries of her existence daily. True to her explorer roots, her disappearance in a blizzard, though tragic, is a fitting end to the life of this unconventional chicken. We’ll miss you, Henny Penny.