A BAD WEEK.

Things continue to go remarkably smoothly while we watch Bugtussle Farm for the Smith's. But at our own homestead, things have suddenly taken a turn for the worse. Starting on Saturday, after we went to do chores around 5 in the evening, we came back an hour later to our cabin to find the chicken yard FILLED with feathers and the fence literally knocked to the ground. A quick head-count and examination of feathers, and it seemed Grampa Munster was a goner. We were super bummed and a little confused - we have had virtually no predation problems. Was it an owl? Hawk? Fox? Who knocked down the fence - was it Wendell hopefully trying to protect the flock?Well, this continues to happen. Three days, three chickens gone - ALWAYS when we go and do chores. Yesterday, we even heard the chickens sounding the alarm while we were up on the hill moving the livestock. Jesse ran down the hill but it was too late (and he found our dummy doggie sleeping soundly under the house). Losing a chicken a day is never good - but especially not when we only have 15 laying hens. And of course, this smart thief (we are guessing fox) has been taking our fattest, favorite birds....not any of the 20 or so bantams that we don't particularly want or know what to do with.On top of this - a broody (sitting on eggs) hen was attacked two days ago while sitting on her nest. We don't know what got her, but her leg/thigh was badly opened up and bleeding, and things don't look good (I mean....there are maggots involved.) So basically - this past week has sucked, and we are super sad - not just about losing our egg supply but because we love/name/obsess over these girls. And because we don't really know how to stop the cycle of death.But here is the thing - and it is a magical thing. It is that thing that always seems to happen on the farm, where death and life are connected and always seem to follow, one after the other. Although we don't think the mama hen is going to survive, one (only one!) of her eggs hatched yesterday morning. We are brooding her inside, next to the woodstove. We are loving her and willing her to survive.There is always hope.She was born the day our favorite chicken, Beyoncé, was killed. And so her name, obviously, is Destiny's Child.- Hannah.