Saturday I was full of busy. Moving the guinea fowl to their new run, moving the bees into the polytunnel to give a little extra protection. We received our new bed, heaven. with all chores completed we collapsed into our new bed, knowing we would have a day off on Sunday. It would be my neice and nephews 21st and we were looking forward to seeing them.
Sunday morning, the usual routine, weighing out food into containers to take to feed the animals. All was well until I reached the the orchard where the collection of welsommers, cochins and rhode island red's are/were kept. I could see 2 or three bodies in the run. Scared of the memories of the last masacre that greeted me I returned to the house informed Barry grabbed a bag and he accompanied me for the clear up.
Both Cochins, Rhode Island Red's, and all but 2 cocks and the 2 old welsomer hens were dead.
We cleared up Monsieur Reynard had been busy we muttered, but all did not seem right. The was not a mark on the birds. And how did he jump the fence, holding onto to chickens, without leaving a trace?
I couldn't talk about it I felt so sick. All the hard work this year of rearing a stock for next year almost completely wiped out.