“What do you mean she’s dead?! Who’s dead?!”
“Another one of the brown chickens.”
I first spotted a bunch of familiar brown feathers littering the ground when I pulled my car into the driveway. There was far too many to not become immediately concerned and so with great trepidation I wandered around the backyard in search of their owner. It didn’t take me long to find her, eyes closed, legs stiffly raised in the air.
“I want that dog gone -” I stated angrily at Mr X, my whole body shaking with barely contained rage.
The dog I was referring to was the neighbours six month old Stafford shire terrier. Another beautifully, intelligent animal that had been let down by another lazy owner. I first witnessed its natural hunting instincts a little over two months ago when it attempted to “round-up” the chickens and I chased it off with a stern warning to the neighbours to keep it contained. Unfortunately for the chickens the neighbour didn’t take my warnings seriously and after one too many days of being ignored and becoming bored it decided to create its own entertainment.
“I think it’s time to build them a proper chicken coop.”
Mr X and I were lounging on his parents patio admiring their own new chicken pen when the thought suddenly struck me. We couldn’t watch the chickens 24/7 to ensure they were always safe but we could provide them with a safe environment to scratch around in. Including gathering the materials required it took a week for Mr X to complete it and the current occupants are slowly settling in.