Thursday, May 26, 2011

Wiley as a....

There is nothing more disturbing than a pile of chicken feathers.  Like small puffs of soft cotton, they were clinging to the grass in a circle. It looked like some sort of feathered alien spaceship had landed and left behind feathered crop circles.

But I knew better.

A quick head count revealed that 5 hens were missing. One of my sweet barred rocks, and 4 Red Sex links. My most prolific layers.

No sign of blood, but a definite struggle. Something fast, and of a decent size. Small enough to get under the fencing and slip in unnoticed.

We had a fox in the hen house.

We took a quick walk of the fields, and found one poor hen, sans head. It seems she was dropped on the way to the den. We also found two dens on the property, which we smoked out and filled with rocks and diesel oil. We are hoping to convince our foxy friends to move away.

The hens are now on lock down, and hating every minute of it!

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