And Then There Were Four

I am in the big smoke, working in the Sydney office for VL's July/August deadline. I always look forward to stepping back into the office – a chance to wear outfits other than my garden gear… And be surrounded – so to speak - by new gorgeous things from around the world. It is always inspiring in here.
While I’m away The Farmer calls me with Pine Hill updates. Sowing is in full swing with the paddock along the front drive already looking green. You can’t help but get excited when you see the wheat poking its head up in their perfect rows. Last night, after my delicious dinner in Darlinghurst, The Farmer called to say the fox had returned and that two more chooks had been taken. (With recent events, I’m not sure why one would think it a good idea to let the ladies roam at dusk, but what can you do… he did have good intentions…) At hearing them cackle and causing a fuss, The Farmer ran outside to their rescue only to see the fox running off into the saltbush. Feathers everywhere, a chook clambering to the ceiling of the chookhouse, and a headcount of only four he declared war. The villain had been identified. So he went hunting. He found it over by the sheds… missed the shot… found it hiding in a fallen tree… missed the shot… found it by Saltbush Cottage… missed the shot. He sounded a defeated man – and was clearly missing his sidekick to hold the spotlight (moi). I admit shooting with one hand, sounds rather difficult.
The phone call this morning though, had a happy resolve – the two chooks we thought were taken, were found pecking around the garden this morning. They had escaped the jaws of the fox and slept in a tree. Quite clever really. They apparently look every bit like they’ve been in a tussle – a bit featherless, but none the less alive. By running outside to their calls for help, The Farmer had saved them. A chicken hero. He’s halfway there. It aint over ‘til the cunning fox is gone for good.