But what’s even worse is wading through knee-high snow drifts, finally making it to the coop, and finding dead chickens. Yes, I’m sorry, it’s true. How could this be? The coop door was shut tight! There was no possible way a giant animal came calling. No this killer was the small innocuous-looking furball named The Weasel. I saw it on the rafters but didn’t make the connection – how could this tiny animal kill my chickens?
The kids came down with me and tried to catch The Weasel. We brought Tenny down and he tried his darndest to catch it too but it was crafty and sly and kept slithering down holes it had made in the coop. So we decided we could only do one thing.
What did we do with the deceased? I bribed Brynne with a treat if she would “help” me. I held the black garbage bag open and looked away. With no hesitation she grabbed each one by their feet and dumped them right in. 1, 2, 3, 4. Done. I did not think about what I was carrying all the way through the knee-deep snow drifts. It was heavy. With some chicken claws poking through the bag. Ew!
Will we ever have chickens again? I just can’t answer that question yet.