We lost our first hen yesterday to a marauder who took one wing. My farmer friends have voted they think it is a raccoon based on the details I sent them, broad daylight attack, and other forensics which I won’t share. The boys and I came running outside to hear Merlin clucking his alarm call and the hens were all huddled in a corner with him. Sam was the first to notice a hen was missing. I kept hoping we’d miscounted, but sure enough a Rhode Island Red (RIR) was missing. The one with the little pea comb (small comb) – the sweetest of the three. We looked all over for feathers, or for her. We looked in the woods and on the trails. We couldn’t find anything so we thought it was a hawk. Merlin was looking to the sky as some kind of confirmation. Then just as we got everyone settled in and having a scratch snack, some salmon leftovers and soup (chickens have a good life!), we went to the truck to run our errands. That’s when I found her – on her side. Poor thing. So we went in to tell Daddy and this morning before church I dug a little grave and put her in her final dust bath. Yesterday the boys and I nailed a little kindling wood cross together and put it by the corner where we found all the hens huddled together – a way to celebrate lives saved vs a life lost. It was just too morbid to mark the hen’s grave. However, we did name her – Polly – so that she would be remembered. Sam took it really hard – he really understood and said it was so sad that Pecky Becky wasn’t the one lost. It was little pea-comb Polly, the sweetest of the three. After lots of talking and empathy, I gently reminded him that she was really one of the “production” birds, not the pet three, but it doesn’t really matter to a kid who had become attached. And I took it hard, too, feeling responsible for allowing the girls to have unsupervised recess. We had gotten a bit lax, I guess, having not seen any evidence of critters in a long time, not even the resident raccoon we knew lived in a tree right nearby. The hens remained under the coop today, growling in a low cluck. They wouldn’t come out to scratch unless one of us came to protect them. We counted hens many times, still unsure of exactly which predator it had been – coyote, raccoon, possum, hawk, eagle, rat – there are so many of them. We did get to church, and a visit with Santa today. We’re recovering. But I tell you what – the three of us (boys and me) are eager to avenge Polly’s death. We want at that critter. Sam decided yesterday, though, that God gives us predators to teach us about challenge. And Ben has decided the hen is up in Heaven with new feathers on. Wouldn’t you know, their advent calender treats yesterday were two little rubber chickens – one hen and one rooster – with candied almond eggs. Dave and I thought about swapping out that treat for something else but ultimately decided it was meant to be. Tears were shed aplenty yesterday, but we are strong and will persist. This happens in farm life, however micro the farm is.
The most compelling memory I have, though, is one of life: Merlin in front of his hen house, guarding his ladies with all his might, chest broad, feathers puffed way out, and head and neck pulled way in and down like a football player ready to charge. I could not believe it. He was truly guarding. Here is a picture of him:

Merlin guarding his hens. He wouldn't crow for 24 hours. SO unlike him. And so very interesting to watch all this unfold. Bless you, Merlin, for your example of manhood!

The boys meeting Santa. Ben finally decided he was ok to talk to. Sam had his list all written out for him, one side for Sam, and one for Ben. Sam has been jotting things down for Ben on the back side for a month now.

Lest you think I have processed the loss of a hen without too much upset...I avenged her today on the rest of the wood that needed splitting. Thanks to Polly, I found enough vengeance to wield the "daddy" axe - the real axe, not the maul - on the wood. I split many of them in one blow, and they sprang about 6ft to each side. Boom! Some of them I had to use a sledgehammer on the back side of the axe, but many I got on first or second swing. So satisfying to finally have that confidence. Thank you, Polly. Know that we are sorry you were lost to that raccoon, and that we are being extra vigilant with your buddies.
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