Well, it finally happened — the little red hen went over the fence this morning, and before I could get my robe on and get out there, Raymond (bad dog!) had done her in. I sort of figured I’d lose one to dogs before it was all over, but frankly, why couldn’t it have been the problematic rooster (who could also have given him a run for his money)?
Ray’s in the doghouse — no breakfast, bark collar turned to high, not looking at him, locked in the front yard where he can’t even go look at the chickens or go roll in the scene of his crime. Bad Dog.
And the other two hens, and the problematic rooster, are hiding under the chicken coop. They came out briefly when I took them some leftover spaghetti and the diced red potatoes that mysteriously refused to cook (another story, but they went from hard to rubbery without ever really tasting cooked). But they seem to have decided that in this dangerous world, they’re going to huddle under the coop.