Chicken troubles

They've been doing so well up until now...

Last night seems to have become a turning point, though. At about 10 or so, Rusty went down to the garage to get something, and discovered that one of the girls was out of the enclosed portion of the yard, and couldn't get back in. It was dark, and she was cold and alone (awww), so R put her in the coop, admonishing her that if she had stayed where she was supposed to, she wouldn't be in this predicament.

In the wee small hours, R was woken up by the sound of the chickens being attacked by something. He was sleeping in the spare room at the back of the house (he wanted to get up at 5am, and he knows how grumpy I am at being woken at oh-god o'clock, only to have the snooze button used 15 times...) which is just as well. He opened the back door, at which the @$%&*!ing offender scarpered, fortunately not taking one of our chooks with it. The morning showed the coop full of feathers, and one of the girls injured and in shock. She seems to be a lot better this arvo, though, so she should be ok. We haven't been locking them in the coop, because we haven't needed to - they take themselves to bed at bed time, and no-one has bothered them in all the time we've had them. The effing cats in this neighbourhood, who wander all over the effing place, into my effing house to eat my cats' effiing food, and now trying to eat my effing chickens as well... Not happy, Jan.

Rusty got home this arvo, and went out to check on the chooks. I got home, had a look at Injured Chook, and then realised there were only 3. "They were all here when I got home!" Rusty exclaimed, "That was only half an hour ago!"

So the tally stands at one injured (although on the mend) and one missing. They all seem to have been through enough trauma that they are not laying.

Sigh. Obviously a sacrifice needs to be made to the Chicken Gods, or something. Good thing we're having lamb for dinner, eh?