Feathers

I came home from Atlanta and immediately noticed something new in the neighbor’s back yard. That looks like a shirt or something. One of those kids must have dropped it passing through.

So Blair and I swing. And I keep glancing. Wondering. Then I saw the feathers. Is that one of my chickens? I think that’s one of my chickens. In fact, that’s one of my chickens, and it’s a Wyandotte. Darn. Something got one of my chickens. How many were there just minute ago when I checked on them? I can’t walk over there and look. Instead, I run to the coop. On the way to the coop, more feathers. What is going on here? Those look like Barred Rock feathers. I know I saw some Barred Rocks a few minutes ago.

I call them. Four came. The Barred Rocks didn’t appear to have lost any feathers. Three missing. All Wyandottes. I know I saw at least one Wyandotte this afternoon. I look in the chicken house. Two poor traumatized Wyandottes are huddled inside. I rubbed one on her back.

Then I noticed it. The other one looked funny. Maybe it’s a shadow.... Nope, something’s weird. Is she missing some feathers? She comes out of the house, and the poor chicken is completely bare on her behind, but there’s not a scratch on her. So we lost Minnie the small Wyandotte :(, but the rest along survived – even half-toe Wyandotte - minus her panties! She’s used two of her lives now. How many lives do chickens have? I guess when it comes to dogs, not many. Poor Minnie.