Something Worth Fighting For: Life Goes On

Devastation.

Wether or not you’re an animal person or not, I hope you can understand my pain and emotions about this.

This morning, my husband and I went outside and found that out of my 13 chickens, 12 had been killed. I am absolutely devastated.

We had predator proofed as much as anyone. High fences, chicken wire on top of the fence so it would be too floppy for a big animal to climb over, chicken wire dug underneath so no predators could climb in…

You don’t understand. I’m simply fucking broken over this. I have raised every single one of those chickens since they were a day old. I raised them in my house, in my bathroom, and taken care of them every single day for the first few months of their life. Some of them were 5 years old, others just a few months.

And they all just fucking got killed. All but one of them, and my 3 big ducks. The ducks knew to stay in their pond, which thank god we built large enough for them to be safe from predators. We think our chicken that survived jumped in the pond too, because she was soaking wet.

Now we have 1 chicken, the 3 big ducks, and the 3 ducklings I have inside.

This has never happened to me. Yes, we’ve lost one, maybe 2 at a time to predators, and every single time it’s happened I upped my security and tried to shore it up so it wouldn’t happen again. And we haven’t lost anybody in nearly 2 years because of it.

But never. Never. Has anything ever taken out an entire flock.

I feel physically sick right now. And I really can’t believe this happened.

My girl French Fry. Before she moved outside.
Buckbeak. She was one of my favorites and loved when I held her.
Miss Frizzle on the wire, Splash I’m the ground. And our black silkie, who I called “Silkie Girl”, because that stuck more than her name did.
Splash, Buckbeak, French Fry, Miss Frizzle, Silkie Girl, Rita, and Jubilee.
Our miracle survivor, Jubilee.
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