Winston this morning, unable to rise

  When I came into the barn this morning, I found Winston lying prone on the floor near the heat lamp, unable to stand or move. Two of the chickens were beginning to peck at him, which is what chickens do when other chickens – or even roosters – are dying. Winston has always protected his hens, but notions of mercy are different in the animal world, much as we like to emotionalize animals.
  I could not handle the thought of Winston being pecked at. I remember his injuring his leg to save his hens from a hawk, and his surviving a savage attack by his son Winston Jr. last summer.
  So I got a large dog crate, hauled it into the barn, put water and corn and grain and a bed of hay in it, and put Winston inside, where he will spend his last hours or days, under the lamp and safe from his own hens.
  There are questions of mercy for me also. Normally, I would think about putting an animal out of its misery when it can no longer move, protect itself, or even eat much. I have killed lambs, sheep, a rooster and chickens for that reason. I could get an axe and chop Winston’s head off, as real farmers do, or shoot him, which would be quick and prevent suffering.
  But I can’t do either. Winston will live out his natural life, however long that is. I just don’t have it in me to kill him, even if it might be the best thing for him. He is safe and relatively comfortable, and that’s the best I can do, especially on Christmas, but even beyond.
  I think this is ultimately what separates humans from the animal world, and highlights the differences between us, much as we like to think they are just like us. I don’t really know of an animal that ponders notions of mercy. Left to their own devices, Winston’s own hens would have pecked him to death by now.