Who would have thought that chickens could be so entertaining. We had a tragedy the other night; one of our Buff Orpington's became the murder victim of a bigger and meaner member of the animal kingdom. We know it wasn't a Weasel because only one of the wings was torn off and half the head was missing. (Sorry for the gore.) Weasels go for the heart and the breast. And now come the chicken dramatics:
Since this incident several of our two-winged, two-legged egg producers refuse to go into the coop at night. It took some sleuthing were they were hiding, and we haven't found all of their hiding places yet. But our only white chicken currently gets her beauty sleep on a branch of the honeysuckle bushes. Since they are full of creamy white blossoms at the moment, she is well hidden. One of the light brown/tan Aricaunas has found a spot on top of the roof of a very old, very small shed. The roof is covered with dry pine needles, and she blends right in. We have yet to find Roadrunner's hiding place She got her name because of her speed and habit of zipping through the landscape.
Sorry no pics since these critters don't retire until it is almost dark.
And thus the tale of the chickens continues.