I didn’t expect to find Lucy dead on the floor of the coop as I went in that bright sunny afternoon the Friday before Easter. I had just seen her in the morning and she and I had our usually interaction. As I was busying myself tidying up the coop, Lucy was my constant companion, chatting away with her deep voice sharing all chicken things with me. She’d come in and out, nuzzle near for a quick pat on the back. To and fro, she has been my daily escort for years. As a result, we had developed a little ritual that I looked forward to every morning.