Life on a homestead is full of beautiful moments — fresh eggs in the morning, the buzz of bees on a warm afternoon, new seedlings pushing through the soil. But it’s also full of hard ones. Today was one of those days.

People often joke and say, “Don’t name the animals — it just makes it harder.” But when you care for something every day — when you feed it, talk to it, and share your space with it — it’s impossible not to form a bond. You know their quirks, their routines, the way they greet you in the morning. They become part of the rhythm of your life.

Today, we lost my favorite chicken. His name was Yeti the Great, a fluffy white Silkie rooster who stole my heart from the very beginning. He wasn’t supposed to be here, really — he was an impulse buy at a local chicken swap. I didn’t need another chicken, especially not a Silkie. But something about him stood out. Maybe it was his calm demeanor, or his funny little strut, or just the way he seemed to carry himself like he knew he was special.

And he was.

Yeti had a personality all his own — easygoing, friendly, and full of charm. He didn’t crow much, and when he did, it was never obnoxious. He was just… good. The kind of good that makes you smile without realizing it.

Losing animals on the homestead never gets easier. Whether it’s a chick that doesn’t make it through the night, a duck that wanders too far, or a favorite hen who’s been with you for years — each loss leaves a space behind. You move forward, because that’s what you do here. Life on the land demands it. But the heart doesn’t forget.

So tonight, as the sun sets over the garden and the rest of the flock settles in, there’s an emptiness where Yeti should be. The coop feels a little quieter, and so does my heart.

He may have been “just a chicken” to some, but to me, he was part of the family — a little friend who brought laughter, peace, and personality to every day.

Rest easy, Yeti the Great. You will forever be missed.