Until now I have been unable to write about a terrible tragedy that occurred here three weeks ago this morning. While Toad and I (and Sadie) lay sleeping in the early hours, probably just at dawn, a predator managed to get in the outdoor enclosure with our sweet little laying hens and brutally slaughter four of them, leaving two badly wounded. We did not hear any commotion and did not learn of the attack until Toad went out to do his usual morning check on everyone. I will never forget how grim his face looked when he returned with the news.
One of the wounded still lives and may recover. She couldn't see for a while but now she can. She's isolated in a cage by herself and has been laying eggs since three days after the massacre, bless her little heart. We think that the perpetrator was a raccoon due to the nature of the attack--it ripped the heads from their poor little bodies and just left them there. So senseless. The other hens and the roosters who claimed them were naturally distraught after the attack. One terrified hen ran and hid so well that we didn't find her until the following day, trying to set and find some comfort in that instinctive act.
At dusk on the evening of the massacre Toad carried all the hens and Foghorn, who had returned to the pen, no doubt warily, to the barn to help ensure their safety. He couldn't find Lawrence of Arabia, the other rooster, and we feared for his life, but he turned up the next day. He is now in the barn with the others. With a vicious predator on the loose everyone has to be locked up. Everyone but some of the roosters who are loosed every morning when Dudley opens the barn door and greets the day. The hens are in two large pens within the barn. I am sure that they miss being able to run free outdoors, exploring and pecking at foliage, insects and worms. We sure do miss seeing our little schmoos, as we call the silkies, and our one remaining old red hen as they roamed about the front and side yards. And we miss Foghorn standing on the top step of the veranda surveying his kingdom, or leading several hens around the yard. The yard is so bare now, so lifeless without the chickens there.
Looking back we should have seen this coming. We had been fortunate in not having a predator find our chickens before that awful morning. What we did not heed was a warning that preceded the massacre by about a week. I haven't had much experience with chickens until the last two years but Toad has had a lot of experience with them and after the attack said that he should have anticipated it after Rusty Rooster, one of three roosters who voluntarily moved down from the safety of the barn to be with the hens in the outdoor pen, disappeared. He was the third rooster to have come down from the barn and had just begun to be accepted by Foghorn and Lawrence of Arabia, had just begun to be allowed to sleep in the coop inside the outdoor pen. Prior to that acceptance he had walked back to the barn every evening at dusk to sleep there. We had feared for his safety in walking up there alone and were cheered every morning to see him back in the outdoor pen. He was missing for about three days, returned for few days, and then was gone again and we have not seen him. We had hoped that he had roamed a bit far and would return again, and grieved his loss when we realized that someone must have killed him. Now I know what should have been obvious--whoever found and dispatched poor Rusty had learned of the presence of our chickens and would be looking for the rest of them. We should have secured them all at that point and perhaps could have averted the massacre. Instead we ignored this warning and put everyone at risk, hoping that no predator would come around.
Sadie has been very watchful and anxious since the attack. She had slept through it, as she generally sleeps on the floor by our bed and we had the ceiling fan going as well as an air cleaner that we had recently set up near me due to my allergies having flared up. Sadie is such an intelligent dog that she quickly assessed the air of grief, the movement of her chickens to the barn and, undoubtedly, the scent of the raccoon and the blood around the outdoor pen. She has been patrolling the area often and has frequently chosen to spend the night outdoors. Twice she has wanted out after dark and has chased someone off the veranda. When we checked to see what was happening we found evidence of some creature, probably the raccoon, having gotten into stuff on the veranda--the first time was a bucket of eggshells destined for the compost, the second was the tub of Dudley feed which has a lid easily removed by an intelligent raccoon. Now we have to weight down the lids of all three feed containers. Apparently whoever is causing the mayhem and mischief is still hanging around. Hopefully it will not get into the barn or attack the roosters during the day.
Sadly, also, Dudley hardly ever comes down to the front yard anymore. He used to be here frequently, lying about under a tree or shrub, often accompanied by some of his beloved chickens. Now he comes only to make a deposit in the driveway each day and then meanders back to the barnyard. As I said earlier, the yard seems bare and lifeless now. I miss everyone.
2 spicy remarks:
Dear Ginger and Toad, My heart goes out to you both I am so sorry to read of the loss of your beloved birds and I hope the remaining are safe, give Dudley a hug for me if that is at all possible.
Love Robin in England
Thank you, Robin. So far everyone else is safe. We sure miss them being around the yard, though. Next year we hope to build a predator-proof chicken coop with a couple of runs for them to get outdoors in the grass and sunshine.
And, yes, it is possible to give Dudley a hug from you. He's such a good boy. I'll slip him a tasty treat to go with the hug. He will be delighted!
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