After Big Twin's passing, we knew Eve was on the decline from salpingitis, and Naomi would be the last survivor of our initial flock of ten Tractor Supply chicks. Edelweiss was one of five pullets we purchased in the beginning of spring 2021. When we brought them home, we cuddled and held them as we picked out names. As we deliberated, one of the Austra White pullets climbed onto my mom's shoulder and hugged her with her neck. Mom fell in love, the Sound of Music was playing on TV, and we settled on Edelweiss.

Edelweiss was fearless to a healthy degree. She and her sister, Lulu, were nigh unseparable, and rose in the ranks of the pecking order together until it appeared they shared the Alpha role. We never saw them peck or bully each other, and they only pecked the others when defending food or keeping the pecking order. They slept side by side on the roost. When Lulu started laying eggs, Edel wasn't long behind.

She loved to be by her humans. When I entered the coop, she flew up to perch by the screen and bawked at me until I said hi. When my brother settled down in a chair in the run, she and Lulu always made themselves comfortable in his lap and would happily preen and nap there until he got up. When Mom came with treats during free ranging, Edel was always one of the first to notice her and come running for first dibs. Edelweiss loved grubs, raisins, blueberries, watermelon, and whatever weed I held she thought was a special treat.

Yesterday, January 9, we ranged in our backyard. In the far corner, we have a raised compost pile behind fencing. Edelweiss ranged near the fencing, and we thought nothing of it. It's possible she picked up something the raccoons kicked outside the barrier. She happily ate the blueberries I brought, and scurried inside with the others as it came close to bedtime.

She was fine this morning, the 10th. I opened the coop, and she immediately came in from the run and jumped up to the screen. She bawked, I said hi, and gave them new food. She ate with the others.

Around midafternoon, my brother, who was working in the backyard, was passing the run when he noticed Edelweiss standing oddly. He picked up up and carried her in. She looked a little lethargic and droopy-eyed. He and Mom carried her into the den and set her on the floor, and she immediately laid down like her legs weren't working. I went for raisins and egg. By the time I returned, her eyes would no longer open and she couldn't keep up her head.

The three of us stayed nearby and made her comfortable in a blanket and paper towels. We matched her symptoms (closed eyes, limpness, fluffed feathers) to botulism. We discussed the vet, but it was already late afternoon and they're closed on weekends. So, we kept watch.

She'd occassionally raised her head as if startled to look around, but her eyes never opened. She passed diarrhea twice. Over several hours, we counted her heavy breaths - 26 per minute, then 40, then 60 per minute. Because she was so active, lifting her head and trying to move whenever she pooped, we had hope. We prepared water additives with nutrients and electrolytes when it'd be safe to feed her again in a day or two. When the sun set, we turned off the lights so she could rest better. I turned on gentle instrumental music.

Suddenly, her head reared back and she flapped herself onto her back. When we righted her, she was limp, and brown fluid flowed from her nares. We checked her breathing and listened for a heartbeat, but there was none. She was gone.

Edelweiss was an amazing hen. She will be sorely missed.