Thursday
Linda
It was already dark last night when Sonny went out to close up the chicken coop. After about ten minutes he came back into the house and informed me that we only had eighteen chickens sitting up on the roosts. One was missing. The three guineas were back under the eves of the pole barn.
“I counted heads more than once and still only came up with eighteen,” he said.
We always make sure our chickens are accounted for every night. Once in a while we will get one that decides its better to stay out all night, and in the morning we find her waltzing around the yard.
We searched all the usual places they like to hide, and checked to make sure she didn’t get locked in the garage (thats happened before). All we could do was hope that she would turn up in the morning. Unfortunately that was not the case.
There was no sign of her. Not even a feather. The odd thing about it all is that this afternoon when we came back from town we went to the pole barn to check things out. There laying on the dirt floor was a chicken skeleton. It had been picked clean and only two tuffs of feathers were laying beside her. I’m not entirely sure but I don’t think her cannibal sisters would eat the feathers too.
That hen was not in the pole barn this morning. So where did she come from? There weren’t enough feathers for it too have been the murder site. Her head and feet were still attached, but she was missing everything else.
I guess the cats could have dragged the body into the barn, but that is unlikely. They don’t really spend anytime down there. They would have just carried it further out into the field. The dog has been in the house all day. I guess its possible she was killed close to the barn and the chickens had a game of chase with the carcass, but that still does not explain the absence of feathers.
Any ideas? Maybe Miss Scarlet killed her in the library, plucked her and then was interrupted before she could put her in the roasting pan. Or maybe it was Mrs. White who clubbed her over the head with a lead pipe. Or Professor Plum. He always has been a bit shifty. Any clues to what might have happened to our dear Henny Penny?
The catch cage was empty this morning and the marshmallows were still in place. I guess that could rule out Mr. Raccoon….or maybe he was too full from a chicken dinner.
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