Tonight, I ran out to close the hen house between innings of the World Series
(which my Giants won! YEAH!!!)
I have developed the habit of counting heads. On occasion, one or two hens may not make it back into the yard for one reason or another and we have racoons, fox, opossums, mountain lions, AND coyotes, all of which relish a fresh chicken dinner. You don't want be out exposed at night if you are born a chicken.
"One big, black rooster, two silver cochins, three barred rocks, one red hen, one, two, three black cochins....THREE!?" One black cochin was missing! I ran back into the house for a big flashlight. I checked outside the back fence, no chickens there. I checked in the doe barn--no chicken. I opened the buck barn and looked under every straw--NOPE. I looked all around the perimeter of the garden--NO CHICKEN! "OK, don't panic. THINK. Where was the chicken the last time you saw her? In the hen house?" OK, I went back to the hen house with my big, powerful flashlight and counted heads again."One rooster, two silver cochins, three barred rocks, one red hen, one, two, three black cochins....THERE!"
Just as my light found the last hen, the missing hen's head poked out as if to say "HEY, we're trying to rest here!" Two black hens were stuffed into one nest box!
Tonight all is well at FiddleSong Farm....