This Won't Do

Dammit!  Euphemistic swear words weren't sufficient yesterday.  In the afternoon I heard the chickens sounding off and thought, "Oh, good.  They're talking again."  But they continued and I got worried and went out to the pen.  One, two, three, four...where's five?  I went inside, hoping that five was in the dark recesses of the coop, but no.  Whatever it was had struck again.  Dammit!  I hadn't invited these chickens up here to provide a buffet for wild things, be they winged or four legged, and I felt/feel terrible.

I went around to inspect the small pen and Taj where the silkies had lived.  It has a chicken wire cover and the fence is chain link.  Yes, it's smaller, but I think there is sufficient room for the four that are left and they will be safe.  The Taj is fine, but the yard needs some shovel work.  Good timing for me, but poor timing for Clay as he's coming up today and I'm going to have to ask him for help.  The chickens will hopefully survive another day in the big pen.  I've found over the years that it is so much better to move chickens at night.  They are almost comatose while sleeping and can be picked up easily, not possible during the day.

Feeling so guilty, I called my sister-in-law last night to confess my,,,what?  Not neglect, not ineptness, not lack of caring...well, maybe just my sorrow that some creatures in my care had been taken.

I can't say it was a good day.