A Trail of Telltale Feathers

     Yesterday morning, shortly after dawn, Farmer Nyel reported that we were missing one hen.  He had been down to the coop, as usual, to let the girls out for a day of free-ranging and instead of seven hens, there were six.
     It was one of the Araucanas that was missing.  There were a few white feathers but no blood, no obvious signs of a struggle, and no indication that the ‘ramparts had been breached’ – at least not that he could see.  The rest of the girls seemed calm, not overly agitated or wanting to talk about any untoward nighttime adventures.  But then, it’s always hard to get information from chickens.
     There were, however, wing feathers and a breastbone in the middle of the lawn, not far from our bedroom window.  Telltale evidence, for sure.  And, once again, a scary realization that all sorts of nighttime marauders are on the loose and even close by while we sleep peacefully only yards away.
     Later, in the full light of day and under closer inspection, we found a gaping hole in the chicken wire across the top of the run.  It had been broken through – a job-of-work that had taken both strength and dexterity.  I’m thinking raccoon.
     Nyel spent the afternoon repairing and reinforcing.  It was the second Saturday in a row that he had worked on strengthening the ramparts.  The culprit has been making forays for some time and now that he or she has been successful, we have no doubt that more attempts will be made.
      Troubles never come singly, of course.  At dusk, when Nyel went to put the girls away for the night, only three of the remaining six would go into their run.  It is their habit at the end of the day to follow Nyel or me down to their run, go in for fresh food and water and then to go into the coop to roost for the night.  Three girls refused to get near the area.  With some trepidation, Nyel left the gate to the run open, hoping that they would eventually go in.
     About a half hour later, flashlight in hand, he went down to close the coop door and the gate and found five hens on the roost.  One missing.  It was too dark by then for him to determine who it was, but he’s thinking it may be Blondie – the oldest and my personal favorite of all the girls.
     As I write this, it’s not yet full light, but when it is we will find out more.  There’s always the chance that the recalcitrant hen found a seemingly safer roost in a nearby tree and managed to evade Rocky Raccoon…  We can but hope.