Chicken Troubles

Our small flock of eighteen chickens is now an even smaller flock of five. Yesterday while we were at church, something got into the chickens. This morning, the freshly fallen snow provided Matt with an easy way to track a raccoon to the chicken house, but it doesn't look like it was the culprit of yesterday's carnage. We suspect it was a dog, the most likely animal to have carried out a brazen daylight attack.

We just sold our first two dozen eggs to a friend this past weekend. We had hoped to start a little jar fund for the kids to spend on an outing of their choosing, but now it looks like we'll be out of the chicken egg business for a while. We'll look at building an entirely enclosed chicken run as soon as the weather permits and we'll try to replace the hens we lost with new chicks in the spring.

Paul, by far, is the most disappointed with this turn of events. Matt dreaded telling him that his favorite chicken, Sgt. Charlie Floyd II, was amongst the dead/missing. Paul had named the chicken after the only member of the Lewis and Clark Expedition to have died. I suppose that in some sort of sad way it's fitting that the namesake chicken died, too. Paul shed a few tears when he heard the news, but he was somewhat consoled by the fact that he will be Daddy's helper in the building of the new chicken run.

In the meantime, even though it's a bummer, we're keeping our perspective that there are many problems much worse to have than a few lost chickens.