Goodbye Miss Hen.

 Over the Easter season, a local Farm Equipment outlet sells chicks and ducklings. For the past few years, my son and I buy a few and raise them.
We have had run ins with predators stealing some of our chickens. Finally recently we saw the culprit in the act. He did his grizzly deed again, but we caught him in the act. He did not do a lot of damage this time, but he killed the best hen in the chucken house. Read on :

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I had named her Miss Hen; for she was so dainty-
Her brown plumage, speckled with white around the neck.
Her healthy chicken legs, bony and thin, were strong.
They were ringed in yellow, ending in sharp spiky claws--
Great for scratching and digging-
for treasures from the eyes hidden.

The chicks- as my son called them-
There were four of them-
Three Rhode Island reds, hens,
And a shiny black frizzle rooster.
He looks like a ball of rough black yarn with a bright red crest
On his small rooster head.
He was always ready for a fight
In defense of the chicks and himself.

Miss Hen would stand behind the door, clucking happily
ready to burst out, half running, half flying
As I let them out of the chicken house to scratch and graze around-
And near the chicken house, close to the house.

With those sharp claws,quickly,
They got to work, scratching, inspecting and-
retrieving any edible find-
Rhinoceros beetles larvae--grubs
Fat and wiggly-
Grasshoppers, crickets, ants, earthworms-
Seeds, anything hidden beneath the pile of fallen leaves.
Other kinds of beetles and spiders surface, all
Scratched up with alternating feet, claws fully engaged
To expose  smorgasbords of chicken delight.

After the last attack, the second one actually,
For it had happened the year before, weeks after Easter
Just as the chicks were maturing into brooders
The culprit hit and made a clean swoop-
Leaving chicken feathers all over the yard
And nothing left in the chicken house.

I was angry with that creature.
How could he kill eleven chickens in such a short time?
How greedy can he be? Or was it a nursing mother
Hunting for her little ones?
For the next Easter, the chicken house was fortified
Really fortified.
Pinned to the ground, like a mobile home
Thoroughly modified, with the top like a dome.
It was a lot of work and it showed.
Fox-proof, as my son described it
Hours of work put in by him and his friend, Alex-
Fox-proof indeed!


For months, it was fox-proof
Then something happened.
The proof failed
The fox railed
He did not like the proof
We did not hear the noise-
He slaughtered thirteen  of seventeen chickens.
Some were decapitated and the heads left behind.
A pile of  mixed color down and feathers left behind
Like a pile of artwork done by a sculptor.

It looked  like a crime scene from the chicken world
Waiting for inspector Rooster to arrive with his team
And gather evidence to find out whodunit.
Just like the children's book tales.
But this was real as a matter of fact.
Thirrteen adolescent chickens, full,of life
Brutally murdered, just like that.


A fox! my son  and Alex had concluded.
Tracking paw prints, just like the first time.
"The culprit is still a fox" they insisted
"No Way" I had said
"No Way!"
No fox can can kill so many chickens in such little time.
"A fox " they insisted.
" Too many chickens died, in such a short time, maybe a coyote" I argued
"A fox" they insisted
Coyotes strike at night under the cover of darkness
This fox struck at dusk, still some daylight.


To be continued next weekend.