Not to be a big ol' Debbie Downer on your Friday, but I'm here whining because I'm having some SERIOUS self-doubts about my ability to make this farm work.
There was yet another attack on our hens last night. Billy thankfully caught the &%@#er in the act and saved our hens - all but one. Strawberry, our sassy queen of the flock, is missing. We searched the heck out of the chicken yard, trees and bog last night by the puny light of our headlamps and found no sign of her. I looked some more this morning and still nothing. Looking for a buff-colored chicken in 3+ acres of brown grass & bog is about as fruitful as searching for a needle in a haystack.
The girls are still holding onto hope that "Berry" will come strutting back out from the bog, acting as though nothing happened. I was hoping for that too.