A small pile of feathers and a severed head on the front lawn was all that remained. Our son, who named two of the three birds, took one look and said, “That one must be Mommy’s chicken. I’m glad my two are OK.”
Always the pragmatist. So Arianna it is then.
How did this tragedy happen, I can hear you ask with disbelief.
It took a little while to penetrate the grey matter, especially after playing and drinking at a local Oktoberfest party the day before, but basically they were left out overnight.
Duh and double Duh!
To be honest, we are lucky that two of them managed to hide for the rest of the night, otherwise it could have been a lot worse.
I had a sleepless night last night worrying about their safety and wondering if they missed Arianna. I eventually got up at 4.30 and went on patrol round our garden with the torch. I must have looked quite a sight in my slippers and PJs, enough to scare any self respecting Raccoon, but all was quiet in the coop. The scene of the previous night’s carnage, cleaned up apart from a couple of feathers, was peaceful, so I checked the locks a few more times then went back to bed.
RIP Arianna Buffington