On Death and Dying

So one of the folks who lives here had some people up for the long weekend. one of their dogs got to one of the chickens that had escaped the coop. in short i watched a chicken die, it squirmed and shook violently and looked like it was in a lot of pain before she closed her eyes and went limp. then i carried her limp, warm body down to the forest to bury her. i wish i had an axe to put her out of her misery but there was nothing i could do but watch her die. it wasn't sad or disgusting it was just life... or rather death. all i know is that if i were a chicken i would rather die quick and relatively painlessly by the hand, or rather axe, of the farmer that cared for me than by a dog or weasel or some other sort of long drawn out death. i hope i'm here when we cull the hens. i hope i get to kill some chickens, but do so with all the love and respect that these birds deserve. i hope their death is swift and kind.