I dumped the scrap pan and latched the door to the laying house and went back inside. Having been sick for a few days, I found my spot on the couch, curled up under a blanket and began taking in a Christmas movie. Hubs, being the wonderful man he is, came home to check on me (and find food) during lunch. I was surprised when he busted through the door and immediately noticed the look of concern on his face. Here was our conversation:
Him: Uh babe, did you know the chickens are all over the yard?
Me: NO!! I latched the door!
That was it. Short and sweet. I peeled my sick rear off the couch, put on some boots and headed outside to round up hens. Shockingly, the dogs didn't eat them. Once an animal gets a taste for chicken, you can't keep them out of the coup. I mean, that's what happened to me. Someone put a plate of hot wings in front of me and I have been a chicken eater since then!
We only found 3 of the 5 chickens. Either there are a couple very happy, free birds out there or they made some wild animal a very nice dinner.
