Chatterbox: Down to Earth

What if you had, say, fifty chickens who you used for eggs, and many of whom were your pets? And you had one who you raised as a chick, and his name was Loudy, and he was special needs. Also he was very sweet. Then there would be your chickens Willy and Esmerelda, their chick Blackbeak, and also their adopted chick named Blacky. Many, many more, who would take too long to name. And you loved them all. Now, let that sink in.

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Then one day, perhaps a Monday, you'd come home from a fun playdate and see something black in the chicken yard. It's Blacky. She's dying from a leg wound, with a mysterious bite/talon mark in her thigh. You'd think it was a hungry hawk. But when you got your coats on and head to the coop... There's feathers everywhere. Loudy--gone. Blackbeak and his other siblings--gone. Willy and Esmerelda--gone, gone, gone. Not to mention the ten piles of feathers scattered all over the place. Pretty maddening. And we blamed it on dogs. But we have a camera facing the driveway, and we watched a replay. A FOX, WHO HAS BEEN PICKING OFF YOUR CHICKENS ONE AT A TIME ALL DAY LONG, LITERALLY LEAVING ONLY TEN OUT OF SOME SIXTY CHICKENS, is really the one to blame. All day!

So, that's the end of my depressing tale. I guess that's what happens when you live on a farm. But that solves our mystery, though. Many of my very own chickens have been disappearing, one at a time each day, but the fox decided to take them all today. So foxes aren't just noble, innocent creatures. They're sly, conniving theives. There's a reason farmers don't like them, and now you know, if you didn't already.