This morning I found my favorite hen, Ginger, with life-ending injuries. We named her after the chicken pictured above because she was always finding a way out of the chicken run. But not this time!
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| Picture taken last month, while Ginger's head was still firmly attached. |
She was the funniest chicken. She was the one that tried to come inside after we had let them free range. She had no fear of us (or the dog).
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| Ginger, taking IJ's apple core |
I assumed she was attacked by a raccoon. And I was right. The Pathetic Doberman was on the trail within a second of finding Ginger's remains.
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| Chasing the now-cold trail |
When IJ and I went to go check the mail, we found some compelling evidence:
Cat prints to the far left, dog print at the top heading to the right, and raccoon right of center. Big raccoon!
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| IJ points out the raccoon prints |
The kids are convinced that Ginger is up in heaven, hanging out with the angels and wondering why Kenny didn't save her. Grandad is mourning the loss of a good piece of meat. We are going to have a little wake tonight at dinner time in honor of Ginger. We are going to have ginger chicken and rice for dinner. Now that's a memory!
