It is quite strange, the way some things coincide. Tom only got 3 eggs yesterday from the coop, and when he went to put the chickens to bed, only four were there. I searched the grounds and found what was left of Margie this morning. Something attacked them in the wooded section of our property. All the chickens are now huddling on the back porch, too scared to move.
I realize that if our chickens are free-range, we are bound to encounter a loss somewhere down the line; the odds in life are not stacked in the chickens’ favor. But I am so sad nonetheless. I really liked Margie; she was the friendliest of the bunch. Ah well. At least our daughter has a new pet to distract her.