Yesterday when I came home from work The Man told me one of the chickens was missing. He had been working in the garage, heard a loud noise, and all the animals--goats and chickens--ran into the garage. When he was able to do a head count he realized a Buff Orpington was missing.
Sophia, aka "the Hag", followed me as usual but I found the remaining four chickens hiding under the deck with Brandy amongst them. I was not surprised that Tandy was missing. She's the one who likes to be carried, the sweet one. I looked at Sophia and gave her the chicken stare: "It could have been you."
Still in my work scrubs, The Man and I walked the chickens down to their coop and locked them in the pen. We searched the area around the Vista and the fence line but we only found a handful of soft blonde feathers. No body, no blood. We reassured ourselves that it must have been very quick.
As we searched, I kept looking upwards towards the treetops and the sky. No turkey vultures circling. No golden eagle--since November we've had an eagle occasionally perch in the pine tree next to our driveway. It could only have been an eagle to take down a chicken as large as Tandy. No hawk could have carried her away.
I finally went inside to change out of my work clothes. As I looked out the upstairs bedroom window I saw one lone chicken on the outside of the pen. I hurried back down to the pen with The Man and scooped Tandy up. I checked her over for injuries or blood. Nothing.
When I put her back down she went on her merry way, pecking at the green sprouts, clueless.
|Photo by Barbie 12/13|