Today I went outside to find one of my favorite silkie chickens lying on the floor of the coop, practically ripped to shreds. And the worst part is that he was still barely alive. I could see him twitching and breathing out of his beak. I couldn't bare to see him suffer so.... I made myself... drown him... . It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Luckily, since he was already so limp he didn't squirm much. Since I free range my chickens I'm thinking it was probably a predator. I doubt that a flock-mate of his would have done this. RIP My dear Cricket. His name was Cricket because the only sounds he made was a really high-pitched whistle-y crow and those high-pitched squeaky noises that chickens make when they find something yummy. He made those sounds constantly and he could always make me smile. RIP Cricket!