[ WP ] Two chickens at a slaughterhouse share a tender goodbye before death .

Harry was crowing. His proclamation of dawn's arrival was always my favourite, and I began to rouse from my slumber until I felt someone's beak on my back. 
 
 `` Shhh, lovey. Do n't open your eyes. Sleep in today.'' 
 
 `` Brogan? Quit playing around. Let's go get some food; I'm hungry.'' I started to stand up, but Brogan pushed me back down with her head. 
 
 Something was wrong. 
 
 `` Just hang out here for a bit, lovey. Would you like me to sing you a song? I can sing `` Go Tell Aunt Rhodie'', while you imagine ol' Irma drowning in the mill pond. That mean bird could really use some water in her lungs. I swear, just the-'' 
 
 `` Brogan, what's wrong?'' I asked. I made no move to free myself from her grasp. The coop was gradually quieting, and although I was curious as to why, Brogan's mood disturbed me greatly, and I wanted to help her. 
 
 `` Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to sleep in today, and I thought my favourite partner-in-crime might keep me company.'' 
 
 Her voice was brimming with sadness and tinged with fear. Suddenly, I could hear the sound of alarmed squawking in the distance, and I began to connect the dots. Our eggs had stopped falling a few days ago, and I had noticed in my time on the farm that other chickens always disappeared shortly after their eggs stopped falling. We were about to learn what happened to them. 
 
 `` Brogan, do you... do you know where we're going today?'' 
 
 `` To a new farm, lovey. One where the coop is always open, and there are no mean geese.'' She was weeping as she gently groomed my back, lightly distributing her tears across my feathers, and I lowered my head as understanding washed over me. 
 
 Suddenly, my back was cold. I turned to find Brogan in the hands of the female human. She stroked Brogan gently and spoke to her in soft, gentle tones, but her hands were covered in blood and smelled like death. 
 
 Brogan began singing as she was carried off, and I hung on every word as she faded into the distance. 
 
 `` *Go tell Aunt Rhodie, go tell Aunt Rhodie, go tell Aunt Rhodie, the ol' grey goose is dead. She died in the mill-pond, died in th-*'' 
 
 There was silence. I smelled the blood again, and those filthy hands wrapped themselves around me, staining my white feathers. As I was carried from the coop, I looked into the sun. It blinded me, and then I knew nothing more.
