Welcome to Cranky Puppy Farm!

This blog belongs to two Gen X-er's smackdab in downtown Kansas City where we've been renovating and decorating two old Victorians built in the 1890's. Our life is filled with 3 demanding Pomeranians (1 of them cranky, of course), honking cars, noisy neighbors and the hustle and bustle of city life but we dream of the day when we can move to our 40-acre farm and hear nothing but the wind and the cows next door. Until then, we're chronicling our triumphs and mishaps here as we try to garden and preserve on 2 city lots, raise chickens, and learn all those things we should have learned from our grandparents. Welcome to our world - we hope you'll stay awhile!

A Fiend In Our Midst

Saturday, September 06, 2014

I went out on the daily "check on the chickens" run this morning, only to find the signs of a massacre.  My first clue was an overabundance of flies near the door and the fact that no chickens were in the chicken run.  A peek under the coop revealed a very dead, disemboweled chicken.
I'll spare you the gory pictures. 
A quick count of the chickens revealed that a second chicken is missing and presumed killed in action.  We are now down to 5 left from our original 9. 
Having seen a possum the other night in my headlights when we got home, I have a sneaking suspicion that he's the fiend that perpetrated this. 
I can't tell you how angry, frustrated, disappointed, mad, ticked, upset...you get the idea...I was when I found this.  I've been wondering why there have been so many feathers and why they had stopped laying, thinking they are finally slowing down since they are close to 4 years old.  Seriously, it looks like a chicken exploded in the coop but, big idiot that I am, I thought they were just molting again.  If someone or something was terrorizing me at night, I guess I wouldn't feel like doing my job either!
My back is still screwed up to the point that I can't bend over without pain, so J. put some boards up to block anything from coming under the coop and into the chicken yard.  Let's cross our fingers that this works until we can rig up something more permanent.


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