Oh dear, upon delivering the chooks their kitchen offerings this morning, I arrived at their yard to find a carpet of black feathers. A quick headcount confirmed my fears. We are a black chook down - and the limping chook explained the sporadic brown feathers also around the place. The poor girls. What a horrible thing.
I thought the culprit must be a fox and immediately had plans to wait by the chookyard with shotgun in hand tonight, but the guilty looks on the dogs' faces when I returned to the house meant I need not endure the cold. I had thought we were successfully past this stage. Obviously not. There is not a bit of it left. The labrador and puppy ate the lot. Poor Black Chook, she was almost old enough to start laying - we got five little additions to the chookyard about 22 weeks ago as 5 day old chicks, above. So then there were seven - now just one black chicken and six Isa Browns.
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