Tragedy has befallen our wee flock of chickens. This morning I put them out in the yard and went in to put the baby down for a nap. Lynden went outside to keep an eye on the chicks, and a few minutes later came racing into the house, hollering. “There’s a cat chasing the chicks! There’s a cat chasing the chicks!” he yelled.
I put on my sandals and ran into the yard, where not a chick could I find. I saw a bunch of black feathers on the ground, and a few feet away discovered Midnight, hiding near the fence. Poor girl – I brought her in and put her in the brooder, and she’s been acting depressed ever since.
The nextdoor neighbour started helping me look for the remaining chicks, and we found Little Red hiding under a bush near the alley fence. Hooray! Into the brooder she went.
My next discovery was not a happy one. At the back of my house, I spied the cat. I was determined to give him a good scare, and maybe inflict a little bit of pain, attempts to deter him from returning. As I approached, I realised that the cat was not alone. Under his (bloody) front paws, there lay Rusty, dead as a doorknob with her stomach ripped open and the cat mouthing around at her innards. I screamed and grabbed my daughter to keep her from going nearer, and Lynden & Raina started wailing. “My chicken, my chicken, my poor little chicken,” Lynden cried. I shuttled the kids into the house and went back into the yard with my neighbour to clean up the mess.
That damned cat just watched us this whole time, munching away. We were right up beside him, hitting him with a stick, before he finally decided to forget about the chick and run. I could hardly stand the sight of my poor little Rusty, and had to look away to keep from vomiting. My neighbour scooped her up with a shovel and dropped her into the garbage bag I was holding, and Rusty’s story came to an end.
I went inside to console the children, who were hysterically sobbing on the couch. Once they were calmed down, I went back outside to look for the remaining two chicks. As I called, “Here chick chick chick,” I heard a rustling in the ferns and looked over to see Star making her way out of hiding, coming towards me. I scooped her up and put her in the brooder.
The search for Henny Penny continues. Lynden went out with the neighbour while I tended to Raina and Robin, and spent nearly an hour searching for our last lost bird. They roamed the alley, sprayed water in the bushes, looked in all the nooks and crannies. So far, no sign of Henny Penny. At least we haven’t found a body, so hope remains.
As luck would have it, a huge storm is rolling in. If Henny Penny is still alive, she’s in for a big shock. Oh, dearest chickie, please be OK.