The mirror
Oh, they know what they’re looking at. I mean, they couldn’t describe it to you in words of one syllable, but they are both intrigued and unafraid.
Rosie and Jenny as six-week-old mille fleur bantams. Rosie vanished one day, presumably taken by the fox. I heard a bark, but the other chickens didn’t react, so it was a sneaky one.
Jenny grew up to be a wonderful great fat mille fleur archetype and the mother of Sam, Mo and Millie. Not their biological mother, but she sat the eggs and raised them.
An even sneakier fox got her. He head-butted his way into the nest box and ate her right off the perch. I ran out to find him trapped in the chicken run. I opted to let him go to save the other chicken trapped inside.
What was I going to do, beat him to death with a banjo?
December 30, 2021 — 7:59 pm
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