I'm quitting the chicken farming life....

Last night we went to lock up the girls and all of them were outside the coop.  Turns out that the oldest hadn't opened the coop door, so none of them could go back inside.  As I walked around picking them up from various spots and putting them back in the coop (and silently cursing him) I kept counting them.

The numbers weren't adding up right.

For an hour we walked around in the dark looking for piles of feathers.  I was sure the fox got them.  I even got the dog, brought her into the goat pen, and let her off her leash to walk around with us.  No sign of chicken feathers but I knew the girls wouldn't have gone far so the fox got two of my girls that should start laying any time.

I didn't sleep well and had long detailed dreams about them and that stupid fox all night.

I woke up feeling depressed and seriously considering getting out of the chicken life...  It's just too hard dealing with them getting sick or hurt or dying when I've named them and grown attached.



I walked out to feed the goats and there was the neighbor's guinea, who's been getting closer and closer to our birds when I let them free range.

And then, there was RebaSue*** (named today).

RebaSue

Alive!!!!

My heart was about to explode I was so happy and relieved.

A moment later, the other missing bird came out from around the corner.

Alive!

RebaSue walked right into the chicken run, but the second one I tortured by snatching her up and hugging her.

No really, I literally hugged her several times before I put her into the chicken run.

She didn't appreciate it, I'm sure.



***RebaSue has been named after Reba and her song "I'm a survivor" because this bird was the one that survived the caking of the rotten egg that exploded and now survived a night in the woods with a fox.