We lost Frizz, and nearly two more.
Drew and I were both at work. Our babysitter said she thought the chickens were playing, being rambunctious, until she realized one of the ‘chickens’ was three times the size of the others. Our neighbor must have noticed just before her; she said she saw two of the girls make it back to the coop, but then the hawk landed on the coop roof, waiting for the others. When Cynthia came out and chased him away, the other two girls came sprinting from their hiding spot under the porch straight into the run, where Cynthia locked them all up.
No one saw him get Frizz, but we’re down one bird and there’s a pile of feathers in back.
We knew this was a risk; we talked about it when we decided to give the ladies free reign of the backyard, sans chicken tractor. And I don’t really regret that decision – I still think a brief, free life is better than being locked in the coop and run for a long life of confinement. But it’s a bummer. Her life was exceptionally brief; she just started laying a few weeks ago.
Weirdest thing: just last week I was working in the coop, crouched down and bent over. Frizz jumped right up onto my back, scurried up to my shoulder. She sat there for a good minute, neither of us moving, just holding eye contact and both looking a bit surprised. I felt like we had a moment.
He had to take the cute one. Our lady in feather pantaloons. I’m sorry, Frizz. I hope it was quick.