Lost another chicken.  I don’t mean in the euphemistic sense of ‘lost’ as in it died – I mean lost.  It was there on Saturday morning when I let them out, but somewhere during the day it disappeared.  At hen-bedtime, there were only eight chucks in the gypsy caravan.  We’ve been out looking for signs of carnage – a mass of feathers, or whatever – but no sign of a distressing end.  Has she been hen-napped?  Or did she make a break for freedom?  I guess we’ll never know.

The remaining hens seem a little subdued, poor girls.  And I’m anxious about letting them out now, so they’re still in their run at the moment.  As I’ve mentioned before in a previous post, it’s a tough call – safety or freedom.  If they could choose, which would they prefer?

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