Cooped

Above is the scene to which I awoke looking out my kitchen window.  I think it's a fox that's doing the dirty work, my husband thinks it's a hawk.  That chicken was big, fat and three years old. Now we're down to two until the chicks grow.

I heard loud screams and yelling coming from upstairs a half an hour later while I was making breakfast. That's not entirely unusual in a house with three children and a fourth from a sleepover. We're not perfect. I was about to address the situation when my son came flying down the stairs and out the back door to apprehend the (neurotic) border collie who was maiming another white chicken that had flown into the backyard. Stupid chicken. While corralling the dog into the bathroom the lab mix recovering from knee surgery who is supposed to be confined for eight weeks, tried to escape into the backyard. She wanted a taste of chicken perhaps. She just came home from the hospital two days ago and hasn't eaten anything but pain medicine wrapped in cheese.

We let the chicken find her way out of the backyard on her own time. We let the dog back outside and settled the lab. I took a shower. My middle daughter burst in the bathroom before I was dressed in a panic to let me know the (stupid) white chicken was in the backyard again with the (neurotic) border collie. He was eyeing her and sat still as a statue. My husband was at church, I barked out orders. Son-put dog in bathroom! Daughter-open gate! The chicken wandered the backyard for some time yelling and looking for a way out.

Later my son told me he had seen a fox early this morning in the field behind our house. He said it was as big as Quill, the border collie. The boys are planning a fox hunt. The chickens are in the coop. I just saw a large hawk perched on the backyard fence. I really wasn't expecting any of this today.