A Tribute to Elastigirl

[Today we have a guest writer, known to you all simply as The Boy.  He told the story, all I did was type.  We have GOT to stop naming our chickens.]

Elastigirl died on Friday.  A fox or an eagle or hawk got her.  All that remained were her feathers.  When we were driving in the car on our driveway, we saw a whole bunch of white feathers.  My mom saw them first.  She opened the door and got out of the car and quickly walked to the feathers.  I said, “I hope Elastigirl didn’t die.”  Daddy drove the car to the chicken coop.  We saw six chickens under the bushes.  Mommy ran up and I asked if Elastigirl died.  Mom checked the chickens and said, “Elastigirl died.”

I started crying really hard.  Mommy hugged me, and then Daddy and I sat on a stump while I cried.  He said that he was sorry that Elastigirl died.  We put the chickens in the chicken coop and then went inside.  And then I asked Mommy to gather ElastiGirl’s feathers.

I was sad.  Because ElastiGirl was sweet and loveable.  I could pick her up and even if you weren’t wanting to pick her up, she would just squat down because she was used to people.

She had brown and white feathers, and she had down.  She was young, but we thought she was the leader.

I am mad at the hawk, and I wish I had been there to scare the hawk away.