Years ago the first hen to breach her confines and master an obstacle course path over the fence to a ladder on my side was a statuesque, snow white clucker. Hubby named her Clarabelle. We decided to name the hens, since no one on the other side of the fence had. I always felt Clarabelle to be a daring, independent adventuress!! My, she solo-ed the rough terrain and decided our garden was the place to forage and dust-bath in the sun - that is worthy of an Amelia Earhart flying-wings pin!
News traveled over-top of the neighbor fence last night, as I gardened. Clarabelle and another hen {we called her Maria-Tomasa-Conchita-Alonso-Vergara} tussled with a nighttime stalker, and LOST! Tears welled in my eyes while I spoke over the fence to sweet Italian neighbor-next-door. This stalker that we're sure is a raccoon, had been to the coop on another occasion - but I always felt that Clarabelle was a strong fighter girl and with her hearty spirit would find her way out of the clutches of the bandit. I was wrong. And it took another with her.
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| our Biloxi |
Our very own hen, Biloxi, went missing more than a year ago. Funny that chickens in your yard become family in your heart.
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| Penny - the One Red Hen |
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| Maria-Conchita-Tomasa |
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| 3 hens all in a row... |
One red hen - Penny - alone in her sanctuary spot (our garden) watched me last night, waiting for the worms I would dig. She was skittish - and rightly so! The sweet-Italian-lady neighbor says Penny isn't eating, and won't go back inside the coop. She darn well knows what happens in there, me thinks ! Penny left via the ladder, back to her home and stayed there amidst fig leaves that shelter the rooftop while the sun began to set. If she won't go inside - that rascal raccoon will take my last garden pal.
A melancholy morn at the ol' home today.
