And then there were three...
So, this morning I awoke to the frantic cries of Pippen, our oldest daughter. She is a morning person, and most mornings is up before 6am. This morning she came down stairs to watch cartoons around 6:15am, a little later than normal, and when she went to look out the window, to check on the chickens, she found a grisly scene. Thus, I was woken by frantic cries.
Now, I don't blame our neighbors. Sure, their dogs have been roaming the property (which we share) for the last few weeks and their kennel is in severe need of repair, but honestly, we live in the country and they have a newborn baby. Plus, they did warn us that one of their dogs had previously killed chickens before, so we knew it could happen... *sigh*
Anyhow, I awoke to her frantic cries. Luckily, I slept with rather more clothing than normal, because before I'd really put two thoughts together, I found myself outside, shooing off a dog and looking for the survivors. We found three chickens, alive and unharmed, inside the now broken chicken tractor. Unfortunately, we also found three more chickens, very much NOT alive, outside the chicken tractor.
Quickly, I sent Pippen inside, she was inconsolable and didn't need to see more. Pippa, who'd come down in all the commotion, watched on in her footie pjs, on the wet grass. After making sure that the dog had finally shooed for good, I got a large bin to put the living chicken in and then climbed into the tractor to get them inside to safety. Pippa always thinks it is hilarious so see Mama climb inside the tractor, so, despite the circumstances, she thought this whole situation was rather funny. Then again, she is only 4, and perhaps not emotionally mature enough to process the situation. Anyhow, we got them inside the house and I quickly passed off to Papa the task of waking Pippy.
Pippy is our non-early riser. At nearly 8 years old, she sleeps like a teenager and has a bleeding heart when it comes to animals. She is one of those kids that is constantly bringing home strays. She is a cat lady in the making. Seriously! We knew that she would be devastated; especially, since one of the victims was our one special needs chicken (she had a scissor beak and was very small). She babied that chicken and loved it dearly.
So, Pippy was fetched and the tears were spilled. Then each girl chose a surviving chicken to cuddle (yes, my kids cuddle chickens, what of it?!) while Papa went outside with a shoe box to collect the victims so we could give them a proper burial.
Now, it has only been, at this point, 10 minutes since I ran from the bed and shooed the dog away, and we should have expected that she would come back and collect the... well... the 'fruit' of her labors. So, of course, when he went out there was nothing left for him to retrieve, which, in turn, restarted the tears... *sigh*
The girls cried over their chickens for awhile and when I say 'over', I mean it, literally. They sat on my nice couch, with chickens on their laps, and cried. Then, when they'd finally cried themselves out, I figured that the grieving girls needed a distraction, I suggested we go out for breakfast. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was 6:30 am and I dislike cooking enough during normal hours, honest. The girls took the living chickens to the brooder box, which is safely in the basement, and we headed out to eat breakfast.
I know it seems kind of callous or shallow but I know my kids. If I hadn't gotten them out of the house and extremely distracted, the day would have been heart-wrenching and full of tears. This way after a lovely breakfast, where we had a sympathetic waitress who listen sweetly to the girls tell the story of their tragic morning, we were able to come home and happily set up the big chicken coop for the remaining chickens. We will repair the chicken tractor soon but for now the chicken are fine in the big coop. The big coop and tractor were both on the property when we moved here and we weren't planning on moving the chicken to the big coop until they started began laying (in October).
Our neighbors are, to be sure, suitably mortified. They love our girls, and although they knew of the risk as well as we did, they do feel responsible. I have a feeling that Pippy, who will have her 8th birthday in 2 weeks, will be getting a couple of new chicks (Just before we go to California...Oh fun! 14 hour drive with three kids and baby chicks...)
So, now for now we are down to three...
On a similar, but less sad, note, two ducks have adopted my sister's family. They arrived in their suburban front yard a week ago, lured by the plentiful bread and wading pool, and have yet to leave. The cousins are thrilled (they really wanted to have chickens too) and Auntie is amused enough to let them hang out for awhile. They are really cute.
Now, I don't blame our neighbors. Sure, their dogs have been roaming the property (which we share) for the last few weeks and their kennel is in severe need of repair, but honestly, we live in the country and they have a newborn baby. Plus, they did warn us that one of their dogs had previously killed chickens before, so we knew it could happen... *sigh*
Anyhow, I awoke to her frantic cries. Luckily, I slept with rather more clothing than normal, because before I'd really put two thoughts together, I found myself outside, shooing off a dog and looking for the survivors. We found three chickens, alive and unharmed, inside the now broken chicken tractor. Unfortunately, we also found three more chickens, very much NOT alive, outside the chicken tractor.
Quickly, I sent Pippen inside, she was inconsolable and didn't need to see more. Pippa, who'd come down in all the commotion, watched on in her footie pjs, on the wet grass. After making sure that the dog had finally shooed for good, I got a large bin to put the living chicken in and then climbed into the tractor to get them inside to safety. Pippa always thinks it is hilarious so see Mama climb inside the tractor, so, despite the circumstances, she thought this whole situation was rather funny. Then again, she is only 4, and perhaps not emotionally mature enough to process the situation. Anyhow, we got them inside the house and I quickly passed off to Papa the task of waking Pippy.
Pippy is our non-early riser. At nearly 8 years old, she sleeps like a teenager and has a bleeding heart when it comes to animals. She is one of those kids that is constantly bringing home strays. She is a cat lady in the making. Seriously! We knew that she would be devastated; especially, since one of the victims was our one special needs chicken (she had a scissor beak and was very small). She babied that chicken and loved it dearly.
So, Pippy was fetched and the tears were spilled. Then each girl chose a surviving chicken to cuddle (yes, my kids cuddle chickens, what of it?!) while Papa went outside with a shoe box to collect the victims so we could give them a proper burial.
Now, it has only been, at this point, 10 minutes since I ran from the bed and shooed the dog away, and we should have expected that she would come back and collect the... well... the 'fruit' of her labors. So, of course, when he went out there was nothing left for him to retrieve, which, in turn, restarted the tears... *sigh*
The girls cried over their chickens for awhile and when I say 'over', I mean it, literally. They sat on my nice couch, with chickens on their laps, and cried. Then, when they'd finally cried themselves out, I figured that the grieving girls needed a distraction, I suggested we go out for breakfast. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was 6:30 am and I dislike cooking enough during normal hours, honest. The girls took the living chickens to the brooder box, which is safely in the basement, and we headed out to eat breakfast.
I know it seems kind of callous or shallow but I know my kids. If I hadn't gotten them out of the house and extremely distracted, the day would have been heart-wrenching and full of tears. This way after a lovely breakfast, where we had a sympathetic waitress who listen sweetly to the girls tell the story of their tragic morning, we were able to come home and happily set up the big chicken coop for the remaining chickens. We will repair the chicken tractor soon but for now the chicken are fine in the big coop. The big coop and tractor were both on the property when we moved here and we weren't planning on moving the chicken to the big coop until they started began laying (in October).
Our neighbors are, to be sure, suitably mortified. They love our girls, and although they knew of the risk as well as we did, they do feel responsible. I have a feeling that Pippy, who will have her 8th birthday in 2 weeks, will be getting a couple of new chicks (Just before we go to California...Oh fun! 14 hour drive with three kids and baby chicks...)
So, now for now we are down to three...
On a similar, but less sad, note, two ducks have adopted my sister's family. They arrived in their suburban front yard a week ago, lured by the plentiful bread and wading pool, and have yet to leave. The cousins are thrilled (they really wanted to have chickens too) and Auntie is amused enough to let them hang out for awhile. They are really cute.