The King (of the dunghill) is dead.
Saturday 1 December, 2007
When I went out to let the hens down this morning, there was a pile of feathers under the ark. All the hens were present but no Hobbes. I assume a fox must have got him as he went to bed last night. Reynard must have fancied a change to rabbit.
The three young cockerels are fine, so one of them will get a reprieve from the roasting tin either as our stock cockerel or as a swap for an unrelated one. It's an ill wind...
- Previous « Tess, the bionic dog
- Next Nest box maintenance »
Comments
There are no comments yet, be the first to comment using the form below.
Leave a comment
Please use the form below to leave a comment. All fields are required unless otherwise indicated, and your email address will not be displayed or shared.
