We had a dog attack on our chickens this week: it broke through our, albeit - rinky-dink, poultry fence and massacred our little flock. Casualties include: 2 missing, 7 dead, 3 injured, and 19 jittered. It was horrible. Two pullets are in a straw-filled hospital-box under a heat lamp in our garage with what seem to be superficial injuries. The injured cockerel is in the coop with the rest of them; he won't stay in one spot, though he does stand quietly to the side. The look and mannerisms of shock of the wounded was sobering. I can't help but look at them anthropomorphically - and my imagination ran wild last night with all the horrible things that humankind has inflicted on one another. They were completely shell-shocked.
It happened in the morning - I was here the entire time, completely oblivious. As we were leaving for the library in late morning, Diego ran out to the coop as usual. I was bringing out tomato scraps from the previous evening's tomato soup as he ran back saying, "Mama, I saw a dog!" That is when I looked more closely and saw the pluming feathers (which I previously mistook for milkweed seeds) and noticed a bird laying on its side outside of the chicken yard, another alive and just sitting by it, feathers askew with eyes staring.
Five of the seven were shaken to death; two of the seven survived, but sustained severe injuries and Squeeze had to put them down last night. Also sobering. The three remaining injured seem as if they will recover, though still extremely subdued and still: the just stand or lay and stare. It is horrible.
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