Something killed Eggy Tina today and I think her sister, Missy, too. I found Eggy's body in the gloaming and she was laid out, her belly eviscerated. I haven't found Missy but she's not in the hen house and there's that vibe in there- that scared, quiet vibe.
And I'm pretty sure I know who the murderer was. A big orange and white cat that comes around and she's been in the yard all day and she chose those two because they're the smallest. I think that cat might be Rusty's mother. She's the one feral that hung out at the garbage place they could not trap and spay and I am so angry that I've already told Mr. Moon he can shoot her. She isn't scared of me. I tried to shoo her off and she only ducked under the truck. And she's not skinny. And every cat in this neighborhood knows they can eat the food I put out in the pump house every night and every morning.
I will not stand for this.
My little Eggy Tina, her blood and guts spilled out on the ground.
I just want to cry.
I'm so glad the boys didn't see her. I was telling them goodbye when I saw a white shape by the edge of the nandina where the chickens like to hang out and I knew, even before I went and got the flashlight what I was going to see.
Well, that happened today and I am sorrowful.
I am powerful sorrowful. My little hens with their fluffy legs. I fed them grapes this afternoon.
And they are gone.