We are down from ten to two chickens and it’s our own fault. If we kept them locked up in a shed they’d have been safe, however we like to see them roaming around the farm as nature intended. The two remaining hens, Mrs Brown and Mrs Black (Mrs White’s head was found detached from her body along with the others including the ‘Tiptoe Twins’). They now stick together and wander around wondering where their friends have gone and if there are tastier scraps to be found there, while I prepare a surprise for the fox…
On our farm about a week ago,
A fox came calling and away did go,
Killed our chickens removed their heads,
Whilst they were sleeping in their beds.
Feathers scattered all around,
My favourite hens dead on the ground.
If that fox had wanted food,
I wouldn’t hate him or be rude.
If I’m late to the boot sale then you’ll know,
I’m no longer woken by the cockerel’s crow!
© Baldock Bard 2015
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