The Redster: Six
The Cutester: Three

Ffion and chicken

I am gutted to report that both our beloved, silly, fluffy, defenseless chickens went missing from their coop last Wednesday night, leaving only a scattering of feathers and a strong smell of fox. I am an idiot for leaving the coop open because I felt ill that evening and didn’t fancy going out in the cold to close it, having got away with it before – i think I’d convinced myself that the garden was somehow fox-proof.

We got the chickens as pets, with a sideline in eggs and good compost, last summer. They were very tame, and therefore the Cutester spent her time outside picking up first one, then the other, and carrying them round the garden in various unlikely positions. She even managed to hold them both at once, one under each arm, though this made picking her nose impractical.

Holding chicken and picking nose

I wasn’t sure how the girls would take the news, as on the same day the Cutester was devastated over the death of a snail she had never even met before. I needn’t have worried. The Redster, whose reaction was ‘*very short pause* shall we get some more then?’ passed it on to her, and after telling us a few times that she was very, very sad, she seems to have moved on.

This time we’ll get three.

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