ATTACK.
We had our first attack on the chickens last night. Honestly, I can't believe that it hasn't happened before - as the ladies have grown fond of wandering through the woods during the day, scratching under leaves and dead trees for bugs. There have been several close calls, mostly with hawks, but last night was the first actual attack. We were listening to election results on the radio in our room, and there was a terrible squawking from outside. A possum had crawled up through the chicken wire on the bottom of the coop and had a tight hold of Ellen. Jesse was able to shove the possum out with a tobacco stick and then kill it. (Sorry for the violence, folks, but that's how this farming life goes. If we had let it live, it just would keep coming back for more....and we love our chickens.) After a midnight coop repairing session, we went back to sleep. Ellen was very battered and bloody, and I felt pretty certain he wouldn't make it through the night.I can truly say that I have never been so happy to be startled awake at dawn by Ellen's squeaky crow. He looks a little rough, but I think he will be just fine. I am so proud of him - he clearly jumped down from his perch to protect the other chickens. What a hero! Here's an old picture of the handsome man....although he has a little less feathers this morning after last nights adventure.-Hannah.