I lost my buddy. She was only 2 years old and one of the cuddliest, sweetest, people-oriented chickens I’ve ever met.
She would follow us around the yard, help us garden, then hop out of the yard to perch on the porch chair and look in the window when we went inside. A fox got her. She was always flying up & over the fence, out on a jaunt. Probably just out looking for her people.
I’d say it gets easier every time a hen dies. And I suppose in some ways it does, after that first time. But it’s never easy. Especially with one so bonded to you.
I know where the foxes live, right between us and 2 other farms. I respect their right to exist and raise their little fox families each year. It’s part of living rurally. But I sure wish they’d move, because losing chickens every year is taking an emotional toll.
She would follow us around the yard, help us garden, then hop out of the yard to perch on the porch chair and look in the window when we went inside. A fox got her. She was always flying up & over the fence, out on a jaunt. Probably just out looking for her people.

I’d say it gets easier every time a hen dies. And I suppose in some ways it does, after that first time. But it’s never easy. Especially with one so bonded to you.
I know where the foxes live, right between us and 2 other farms. I respect their right to exist and raise their little fox families each year. It’s part of living rurally. But I sure wish they’d move, because losing chickens every year is taking an emotional toll.