I now truly understand why people refer to a fox as sly. This afternoon the chickens were all happily pecking at the ground that Andy had just spent the past two hours outside mowing, when disaster struck. Andy came in the house for 5 minutes to get a drink and trade off toddler duty, when we noticed our chickens crossing the road to the neighbors yard (they have never wandered out of our yard before!). Of course you can imagine the scene of us trying to grab our chickens out of the middle of the road before they are hit by passing cars and throwing them in the coop to go back for more. One of the of the nice passers-by kindly informed us that there was a fox in our backyard.
When we arrived in the backyard there was a mass of chicken feathers and a trail through the weeds behind the house. Andy followed the trail and found one dead chicken among the weeds and kindly disposed of it. There are still two chickens unaccounted for; we are hoping that they are in hiding and will return, but as the day has come to an end with no chickens in sight we have a feeling they have become a fox feast.
The four chickens we saved appear to have no interest in leaving the coop anytime soon and we are happy to oblige as we keep a close vigil over the coop.
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