Heart beating I raced out, opened the hen house and piles of brown and black feathers greeted me. I immediately knew our chickens were dead (thankfully a few minutes later I discovered the two brown chickens as far from the hen house as they could get.) Peering around the run to an area Jacques was barking, I saw an opossum in full dramatic death act. While he looked dead, I knew better and ran inside to get Chris to come deal with the little bugger. I figured gunshots in our neighborhood aren't all that abnormal. By the time we got back out there the opossum was gone.
Chris got the shovel, picked up the black chicken and headed to bury it. Looking at the two brown chickens frozen with fear across the yard I said, "Shouldn't we show them, so they know?" "They're not that smart Paula," he replied, and went to dig a hole. He was ticked, and kept saying, "I was going to eat that chicken." I suggested he eat the black chicken, and his Gma said if he was a real famer he would have, but he wasn't interested in an opossum's leftovers.
craigslist for chickens. We hope for hens, I'm not ready to turn my office into a chick nursery so soon.
And, for the comfort of those of you who are animal lovers (how could you love an opossum) - we plan to free the murderer in the country, far from our chickens. I realize, he was just following his instincts, as angry as that makes me.