Currently listening: Come Away EP by Brian McCleery
(Brian's song, Resting Place, is a staple for my morning quiet times.)
Vega, our 7 month old Aussie, had her first big night of flock protection. There is a shed near the chicken coop. If ever a chicken tries to roost there for the night, carnage is the inevitable result. I don't know if the murderers are raccoons, opossums, or coyotes- but I have never seen a wayward chicken survive an evening in there.... until now.
Yes, this morning, as I was sauntering down to the coops in my bright pink galoshes, Vega came rushing out to greet me. She was exuberant, dripping wet from the storm last night, and soooo glad to see me. She is a puppy after all, so everything seemed normal about this until I walked in the shed to get some feed. Vega started huffing and pulling on my leg- and once my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw the reason for Vega's galvanized behavior...
Such a pitiful sight! Oats, one of our new mothers, was hanging upside down awkwardly with her foot caught in a tarp. While I went to work on her liberation, I recalled last night's poultry patrol alerts. We usually hear some sort of commotion- but last night, the dogs were especially active and stayed unusually close to the coop. (Normally we hear barking and growling start in the chicken yard and move quickly into the woods as the dogs chase would-be assassins back up the hill.) Even Imma, our ancient dog, was snarling intermittently from her spot on the front porch.
Now I understood.
Vega, Pax's guard-dog apprentice, had stayed by Oats all night long, in the rain... breaking the curse of the shed.
That'll do, Vega. That'll do.
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