It finally happened-a fox got into the chicken coop. Very early this morning I took a friend to the bus station. When I got back I saw one of our hens, dead, on the side of the road. I assumed a car hit her, which was upsetting enough. But then when I went to feed the others, who were milling about, I all of a sudden realized that they were out because we’d forgotten to lock them up and also there weren’t that many of them. I got Paul and we went to the coop. There were no bodies, but heaps of feathers all over the yard. Very obviously individual chickens. I’m just devastated-PomPom, Quicksilver, Bob, and many other hens are all gone. I feel absolutely terrible because it’s a direct result of our not locking them up. [Add in to this that earlier in the week Blackie, our guinea pig, literally almost died of heatstroke, which was my fault, and yesterday Gordon escaped from his run, but we got him back. I feel like a very irresponsible animal owner.]
Besides loving all of these funny little chickens, I also can’t help but think about the many, many hours we put into all those chicks we ordered from the hatchery. I’m so sad that they are gone. The only blessing is that poor Droopy Butt was one of the ones, and I was worried about her health. Yet, we still have four roosters, a hen whose back is completely bald, and a very old hen whom I don’t expect to live through the winter. Why didn’t the fox take them instead of dear PomPom and all the good egg layers? Our egg business is definitely done for a long time, too.
I am very anxious about the fox returning tonight and will definitely be outside at dusk making sure everyone gets in safely.