The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning;
It's time to sing Your song again.
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me,
Let me be singing when the evening comes.
This brought to mind several really hard days over the last few years, when we've lived through hard things. Most devastating, certainly, when my niece died. Personally hard when yearling lamb Blessing died in birth; when we had a dog attack that killed twenty-six almost ready-for-processing chickens.
The chorus of that song continues
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
O my soul,
Worship His holy name.
Sing like never before,
0 my soul.
I'll worship Your holy name.
I woke to that refrain.
Perhaps, then, it shouldn't have surprised me to casually glance out the window to see that same chicken predator mauling a white bird. I shrieked for Phil, but by the time we got outside, the dog had taken off, bird in mouth, down the road and quickly out of sight.
We have debated putting a gate across the driveway to discourage such predation. It seems it would also discourage deliveries, and make chores more difficult—Phil has to drive the tractor over to the cows several times a week. Not to mention the hassle of opening and closing the gate for every errand. But it is worth it? How many tears, how much loss is worth the inconvenience?
Any layer bird is a loss, both in our kitchen and in dollars. But the loss struck deeper this time.
Phil said, "Look at the mallard." She was hobbling under the office trailer. "Was it the Harlequin duck that died?"
And it was. Our one, beautiful, faithful laying Harlequin duck. Our sole companion for Isaiah's beloved mallard. And while we are thankful the mallard isn't dead, she had dog saliva on her feathers, and a bloody patch on her back. I can only speculate: how does a little duck escape from the maw of a deadly predator?
Perhaps when her friend flies to her defense and dies in her place.
The weather continues grey and dreary; a fitting, sorrowful sky for a sad, sad day.
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