I tried not to cry, but my DH happened to turn and see, and asked me what was wrong. "Nothing, just something stupid". "What?" He persisted.
So I told him, and the telling of it made it worse.
Silly gulping-for-breath, fat tears falling, as I tried to get out the words and deal with the emotions.
"It's the chickens. I was just watching..."
"The chicks? Is it the chicks?" he asked, thinking I was getting upset that they are destined for the table.
"No. I was watching Sasha walk across the garden and, for a moment, I thought she was Lotti".
And then I was really blubbing. Memories of Lotti my Exchequer Leghorn girl, and memories of the fox attack came flooding over me.
The release of emotion also brought up nemories of Lily, the Leghorn I had before Lotti, the first chook that was really really tame, despite Leghorns supposedly being a flighty breed. The picture flashed across my inner mind, up out of nowhere and gone in a flash. Lily made me decide there would always be room for a Leghorn in my flock. I think about her from time to time, and but the memories haven't made me want to cry for several years.
With Sasha and Lotti, it's really only the black and white Borlotti Bean markings that make them similar. That and they are/were both small and flighty.
|My lovely LottiBorlotti|
|Lily (died 2011)|