We have become very attached to our chickens. They all have different personalities and are named! (from left above: Happy Hen, Nosey Hen, Overfriendly Hen, Grey Hen and Upthedrive Hen). So perhaps it’s or fault that a fox-strike affects us so much. Early this morning I was awoken by the sound of slaughter…

I’m not normally violent,
It’s just not me,
But last night a fox,
Went on a killing spree.
The henhouse is protected,
By an electronic gate,
Which suffered a malfunction,
Leaving them to their fate.
I was in bed,
Prior to an early morning,
When I heard hens scream,
A nasty eerie warning.
I rushed outside,
Torch in hand,
Not wishing to see,
What the fox had planned.
There was the fox,
in the middle of slaughter,
I didn’t have a gun,
But I knew I ought-a.
While he was killing,
I stood there fumin’
The only others who kill like that,
I’m afraid to say are human.

© Baldock Bard 2014
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