The sad news is that Charles the cockerel died today. He looked on the brink of improvement and I was syringing meds and fluids into him 3x a day. He started to go rapidly downhill yesterday and was struggling to breathe today (pulmonary oedema I think) so I had to make the heartbreaking decision to intervene. I'd like to write that it was touching or poetic but it's not; I got a log from the woodpile and did what needed to be done. And I held onto him til he stopped breathing, cuddling him (the emotional part) and to check it was an effective fatal blow (the pragmatic part).
We buried him at the bottom of Beeches pen right by the river and put a little stone cairn to make the spot. The dogs and I can visit him when we're walking or working birds back to the pen. He won't be lonely and he's got a nice view.
In hindsight, I wish I hadn't made a chicken for dinner (no relation) and decided I only felt like eating the potatoes tonight.
Now the dogs have finished their dinner, I must give them their evening run before it's too late. There's barely time to mourn the loss of one, then you're back to being concerned with the welfare and survival of all the others.