Then There Were Six

Tragedy over night. Another chook gone - the injured one. A brownie. It must be a fox,the cunning thing. It happened at dusk when they were on their way back to the chookyard for bed. Couldn't have been the dogs - they were with me. Feathers everywhere make a suspicious trail to a hole in the boundary fence. No more roaming 'round the garden chickedees. We're in lockdown (for the time being). Mr Fox out in the saltbush is having a good old laugh. Fantastic. Fear not my feathered friends, we'll be waiting for him tonight...