Right when you’re feeling good about the progress you’re making on the homestead…
Something kills your chickens. All of them.
I went down to a silent coop this morning. The chickens weren’t waiting for me. And they didn’t start their gentle clucking when I called out to them.
Instead, I was greeted by dead silence. And four dead birds. Their necks were broken and the Ameraucana was decapitated. Feathers everywhere, almost no blood.
The working theory: a weasel or marten got in. There were no holes dug under the fence and no footprints in the snow.
But the gates are in need of repair to close completely; there are gaps between gate and post.
And something small tunneled in between the sill of the coop and the cinder block foundation, through a gap already there. It tunneled through the snow, around the coop, until it found this entry point.
I have been worried about fox and raccoon and dogs. I never once gave a thought to something like a weasel.
What a sad way to end my first year with chickens.