Shortly after I got my first chickens almost five years ago, I began to notice clues that someone had been sneaking into my yard and feeding them birdseed. I had my suspicions. My elderly neighbor, Bob Womacks could never resist feeding the local wildlife. He liked to build birdhouses and feed the occupants. He even, much to his son Jerry's consternation, fed the groundhogs.
As his mobility became more and more limited, I took to carrying a chicken or two over to his house to eat the bugs from his garden. We would sit on his porch and watch them as he told me wonderful stories from his childhood in Arkansas and from when he was in the Army in Alaska during WWII. He had raised chickens as a kid - thus the affinity for my birds. The stories from Alsaka were such big tales that I was never sure about their veracity. He was in short a character - a loveable, mischievous character.
He was happy to come home from the nursing home yesterday afternoon. He passed in his sleep last night in his own house. Amy and I feel fortunate that we were able to see him one last time last evening.
We will miss him. He was as good a neighbor as you could ever want.