Chickens

Eli had 9 chickens that she fed almost everyday. Occasionally, she would exclaim that she had forgotten about them for the past day or two. Because of this they were growing at a slow rate and still were not producing eggs. However, this past month she had been feeding them religiously as she was fattening them up for Christmas dinner. She was going to cook 3 or 4 of them depending on if her son and his family could make it out here. She said the chickens would start giving eggs within the next week or so. Since we eat eggs everyday for dinner this would greatly help the food bill if the chickens were laying.
They had the kind of chickens that have no neck feathers, just bare naked skin. These kind are quite ugly, but apparently tasty. They also had a lovely fat orange chicken who was completely covered in feathers. She loved to peck in Eli's flower bed. I always could forgive for it her because she was just so pretty.
As I opened my bedroom door yesterday morning, barely awake enough to say good morning in Spanish, Benjamin ran up to me and shouted, "Someone stole all the chickens!!! Come see!" We trekked out to the shed and sure enough someone had torn apart the bamboo door (which was really unnecessary, they could have unfastened it and opened it) and taken every single chicken. My first thought was OH Nooooo! CHRISTMAS DINNER! When I asked Benjamin how it made him feel when people stole from him he just shrugged his shoulders and laughed. Eli did the same thing. There is nowhere to go and no one to talk to when you are robbed. There is nothing to do here, but shrug your shoulders and say, "oh well." Eli said now she will have to buy chickens for Christmas dinner. This just about broke my heart. After all that hard work she lost everything. The 9 chickens were worth about 450 Quetzales, which is a substantial sum of money here.
This isn't the first time all of her chickens had been stolen, but it might be the last. She said that she has no desire to raise chickens again since they will only get stolen.