I woke up Friday morning and looked out the kitchen window, I noticed our beautiful, sweet tempered black hen, Pet, was lying on the ground 'resting', or so I thought, later, Grace come running in and says, "Clooney(our Leghorn rooster), and Pet are dead and we lost a guinea!" I ran out there and sure enough, they where...well,...mangled. I'll spare you the details. So I put on the rubber gloves, got a shovel, and headed out there to 'dispose' of the temporarily. Daddy came home and said it was a weasel. He put gravel and more chicken wire in some places that where big enough for a weasel to get through. Earlier last year, a coy dog got 2 of our guineas, and 2 chickens, and the morning after that accident, Margaret had died of shock. (Seriously she did). So our poultry count was 1 rooster, 4 hens, and 5 guineas...until this 2 day massacre. This morning, we heard all this racket coming from the coop, so we went out side and 2 out our 3 hens that were left from yesterday's killing, where dead also! So know, because of a weasel, we're left with one, white leghorn layer. So goes the story of farm life...
On a lighter note, We're coming really close to house-breaking Ellie Evangeline. (Yes, we decided to give her a shorter name:)) She's doing wonderful.
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