Friday, September 2, 2011
Georgia came in the house looking horrified.
"Mama, there's a pile of feathers and I'm scared." She started to cry.
I went outside to look and there was a substantial pile of feathers just outside the garage, but nothing anywhere else. Nothing. I looked for some trail or sign of which way she had been taken. Did a hawk swoop down? Georgia looked around nervously and whimpered, "I can't go camping. I'm so scared." (We were packing for a camping trip this weekend.) I felt so sad and guilty. How could I have not heard anything? Now we had one chicken. One chicken in not a happy situation. She can't snuggle to stay warm and they get very lonely.
I told Georgia we'd go drive around and see if we could find any clues.
I went into the garage and thought I heard something. A soft cluck? I went to the way back, among the piles of tires and lawn equipment and I saw a feather and heard a very soft muffled clucking. I saw a mess of feathers and realized she was there! She was somehow stuffed under a tire and she didn't look good. There was blood, but at least we'd get to hold her and say goodbye. I ran inside and got gloves on. It looked like it would be gruesome.
I talked quietly to her and took the pile of stuff off of her and squatted down to pull her out.
She seemed OK!
She was all in one piece.
Her butt was bleeding where something had pulled out feathers but she seemed Ok.
Georgia and I were so elated! She was alive!
I set her down and our other chicken came close, then I noticed Sparkle had a limp. A chicken with a limp is a sad sight. She went to lie under the cedars with Henny and lay her head on Henny's back. I wondered if she might just perish from internal injuries at any moment, but she perked up and was alert the next morning. Hooray!