RIP Goldie

Goldie, it would appear, was 9 1/2 years old, which isn’t bad going for a chicken. She came from a breeder down at Rokeby who had hatched the chicks for the display at the Royal Hobart Show. That happens in October each year, and the oldest photo I have is datestamped from January 2003.

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and here she is a little older, with two of the others from the same batch. [Amber the clack one in front is still with us]

Amber and Goldie

Goldie used to like weekend lunches – where possible we take our weekend lunch outside and eat it on the steps at the front of the deck. She’d learnt to sneak up behind us, ready to clean our plates when we put them behind us. She also used to hide in the (outside) laundry to lay her eggs, or climb/fly up onto the bench hopeful that we’d left the lid off the chicken food tub again. Goldie was a Modern Game Bantam, if you were lucky enough to pick her up it was possible for your fingers to touch around her – but then she’d flap and show you how strong she was by pushing and flapping out of your hands.

Her last few days were quiet – I gave her a bit of water through a syringe, but the fact she let me pick her up showed her age. She is now next to a nectarine tree in the new fruit tree area alongside the driveway. A quiet but strong character. Let there be more chickens like you, Goldie Girl.

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