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The Hardest Day on My Terrace Farm

Three months ago, they were just tiny yellow chicks fitting inside my palms.

Weak little creatures running behind me on the terrace rooftop, chirping endlessly for food, warmth, and attention. Every morning started with checking on them before even having my own tea. Slowly, my rooftop stopped feeling like a concrete terrace and started feeling alive.

Day by day, they grew.

Their feathers changed, their tiny squeaks became loud confident calls, and before I even realized it, my chicks had transformed into young roosters. Strong, energetic, territorial, and full of personality. Each one had its own behavior, its own attitude, its own bond with me.

I watched them survive heavy heat, sudden rains, and rooftop winds. I fed them by hand, experimented with local desi foods, protected them from crows and cats, and proudly watched their healthy growth. Seeing them grow so quickly in just three months felt like an achievement of patience, care, and love.

But sometimes, despite all efforts, nature takes a difficult turn.

Recently, they suddenly fell sick.

At first it looked small — a little weakness, heavy breathing, unusual silence, less movement. Then slowly the condition worsened. The same birds that used to run across the terrace started sitting quietly in corners. Watching them struggle was painful because animals cannot explain their suffering. They only look at you with trust.

I tried everything I could.

Cooling arrangements in the heat, changing feed, monitoring water intake, checking symptoms, searching for remedies, and staying awake worrying about them. But deep inside, I knew they were suffering.

And then came the decision no animal caretaker ever wants to make.

With a very heavy heart, the roosters had to be slaughtered.

Not out of anger.
Not out of convenience.
But to end suffering and prevent further pain.

That moment was emotionally difficult because these were not “just chickens.” They were lives I had raised from childhood on my own rooftop. Every corner of the terrace still reminds me of them — the feeding spots, the water trays, the sounds of their morning calls.

People who raise animals understand this silent attachment. Whether it is poultry, goats, ducks, pigeons, or pets — once you feed a creature daily, care for it during sickness, and watch it grow, a bond forms automatically.

This experience taught me something important:
Raising animals is not only about joy and growth. It is also about responsibility, difficult decisions, heartbreak, and accepting the realities of life and nature.

The terrace feels quieter now.

But the memories remain loud.

Their short journey from tiny chicks to proud roosters will always stay with me as a reminder of care, effort, sacrifice, and emotional attachment that only animal keepers truly understand.

And maybe someday…
the terrace will echo with chirping once again.

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