We had my cousins over for dinner last night. We feasted like kings and enjoyed ourselves, happily chatting and drinking wine until nearly the wee-hours of the morning. Little did we know, we were also hosting another feast in our back yard.... Raccoons...and Paul swears that he's gonna kill them the next time he sees them.Early this morning, Paul goes down at my request to let the chickens out of their coop to graze and wander for the sleepy morning we'd planned. He comes back with a grave face and mouths to me (so that the kids can't hear) that Tres, the black one, has been strewn across the backyard and the other two are gone. He returns to the yard to collect the parts, which are mostly picked clean, so that they aren't discovered by the kids. While doing so, he spots Uno on the other side of the fence and sends me out to fetch her. Within minutes, I'm in the back of the fence, clucking like a chicken, to coax her out from hiding. She comes running over when she hears me and is easy to catch. We gather in the house to pet and love on the second safe return of Uno (you may recall how in September, Uno was lost in the "great outdoors" for nearly 4-days until we found her, gratis to a craigslist lead, on the side of the highway!). Two chickens accounted for; one, Dos, is still MIA.
Paul is melancholy all morning, mourning the terrible fate of Tres and the terrifying and grotesque scene which Uno had to live. We can only hope that Dos is safe somewhere, hunkered down like Uno did last fall and will come out later to be discovered. There is absolutely no sign of one brown feather to suggest she had a struggle with anyone. "This is why we shouldn't be keeping these things," he mourns. He's insinuating it's for the kids' sake, but I know he's thinking about his personal discomfort and emotional trauma. Who knew he was really such a softy?
We searched the terraces behind our house; first him and then me (since I can make the gentle clucking that brings them out). The entire time I'm combing the bushes and grasses above the freeway, I'm feeling guilty. Did I inadvertently leave the latch undone when I checked on them last night before the company arrived? Tres was nested nearest to the window. Could the raccoons be cleaver enough to fumble with the lock until they opened the door or was I just lazy in my haste to cook my cousins' dinner and left the window half closed?
Absolutely no sign of her in the wilds of the terraces. So, we've posted our craigslist ad again and have emailed out to the neighborhood via the parents' group. We hope there will soon be a reply, even if it is to note some small clump of brown feathers in the field. There is hope to find her - Uno has shown us that. However, tonight we mourn the definite loss of Tres. Hopefully, one chicken dinner is enough for the raccoons this week.
