lefttowrite
Chirping
A beautiful evening last night and I let the girls out while I was weeding my berry beds. They went into sparse trees up the hill a bit when I heard a squawk, then silence. Five girls made it back to the coop, but Mama Cass (one of my top two favorite chickens) did not. By the time I got there, a coyote was running off with her in its mouth.
Iām thankful it was quick and she didnāt suffer. Iām thankful it was a beautiful evening and she was out free ranging and happy at the time. Iām grateful the coyote only got one, and seeing it happen at least gave me the gift of certainty: I didnāt have to go to bed wondering where she was or why she didnāt come home.
Now that the sadness has turned to resolution and a little bit of anger, our next steps are to invest in a pest firearm and build a tractor so they can range more safely (we have a little one and canāt be out with them all the timeā¦not that being out with them made a difference last night
).
I know this happens but itās my first loss and damn if it doesnāt suck. She had one of the most recognizable combs, with the little fold in the middle, and last summer after free ranges, sheād be the first one in the coop and sang a ābedtime songā calling everyone in for the night.
Iām going to get a blueberry bush and bury whatās left of her feathers beneath it. She loved blueberries.
Iām thankful it was quick and she didnāt suffer. Iām thankful it was a beautiful evening and she was out free ranging and happy at the time. Iām grateful the coyote only got one, and seeing it happen at least gave me the gift of certainty: I didnāt have to go to bed wondering where she was or why she didnāt come home.
Now that the sadness has turned to resolution and a little bit of anger, our next steps are to invest in a pest firearm and build a tractor so they can range more safely (we have a little one and canāt be out with them all the timeā¦not that being out with them made a difference last night

I know this happens but itās my first loss and damn if it doesnāt suck. She had one of the most recognizable combs, with the little fold in the middle, and last summer after free ranges, sheād be the first one in the coop and sang a ābedtime songā calling everyone in for the night.
Iām going to get a blueberry bush and bury whatās left of her feathers beneath it. She loved blueberries.