After a very long stretch of peace in the House of Chloe, we finally suffered tragedy. Our only maran was killed by a allegedly ferocious dog. A feral dog to be precise. I asked my dad why they call them ‘feral’, and he said it is so we can kill them guilt-free. He really likes feral cats. Anyway, there weren’t any witnesses to this crime. Our neighbor Roy saw a strange dog very close by. Strange dog, feral dog, whatever. That is a no-brainer in this case, but I would protect my hens. It would be very hard to protect my chickens when I know someone’s pet is doing the damage. But I would.
The maran’s name was Turtle. She layed perfect rich milk-chocolate colored eggs, that were my mom’s favorite. My dad strung her dead body to the high-voltage electric fence to bait some innocent scavenger into a jolt. With a chuckle he said he did it to ‘avenge her death’. I think he is devious.
Another fine hen was also seriously wounded in the attack. Clover nearly lost her wing, and one of her eyes is closed. Her comb is very bloody. I don’t know how bad her wounds are, but I am concerned for her. She is a very friendly hen, that likes to be carried around. Tonight, she didn’t roost. Instead, she huddled behind a brooding box. What was extremely fascinating about this whole event is that our other long-time surviving hen from last years fox attack was huddled against her. Fluffy is her name. It was like Fluffy was laying against her and saying, “Hang in there sister. If I can survive, you can too.”
Are animals a living soul? I know we are. What are emotions? What is a living soul? I really don’t know what Fluffy was thinking. For all I know, she was trying to steal some body heat from a wounded chicken. But I do see overwhelming evidence in these hens, the goats, our cows, and our especially our dogs, that there is much more going on inside than simple animal instinct. Hang in there sister. Tonight will be cold.