When a rooster flies at you and puts his spurs into your leg, you notice it. This fellow was a big heavy lad and he ruled the roost. I'm going to miss hearing him crow tomorrow morning.
Yep! Foxy got into the hen run this evening, killed my beautiful rooster and one of the new chickens. He (or she) dug a way under the fence from the garden of the derelict house next door. He'd already killed the big fellow and was making off with the hen. Bert gave chase and Foxy was unable to get his prize under the fence. So he didn't get his dinner. Bert had to pull the poor hen's neck as she wasn't completely dead.
I miss my lost roosters more than my hens. They may not lay eggs but they have bigger characters. I need to get another one and I need to make sure the damnable fox doesn't find it so easy to get into the run. Bert went out with the gun but saw no sign of it. I'm in two minds about killing them because I'd be thinking of hungry cubs. And Evie wouldn't be pleased. She's in the fox camp.
And from Hannah's perspective - this.
Photo by ZMB
2 comments:
I don't blame Bert, though I could never pull a trigger.
I don't think I could either. The thing to do is to make it difficult, very difficult for the fox to get in.
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