(Don't you just love that statement? There are so many "then"s in the Bible--usually right before something wacky and exciting happens.)
Last night the boys got busy putting together a new Lego ship, and they forgot to put up the chickens.
This morning the boys ran into our room shrieking over the massacre that had taken place in the chicken coop last night. It looks like a raccoon climbed in through their open window and carried away a bunch of chickens.
And the rooster. Ha!!
So today, with no ferocious psycho bird to accost us, we grabbed our rakes and hoes and wheelbarrow (and stroller and baby doll) and went back to the garden to reclaim it from the mass of weeds and dead foliage.
And while we were working and deeply mourning the fact that Caiden's "second favorite chicken, Ozma," was one of the hapless victims, she and another sneaky chicken wandered in, all cool as can be. I guess they'd been in hiding since last night and finally left their hiding places when they heard us in the garden. So that means we only lost two hens plus the rotten rooster, and we've decided that's not a bad exchange.
See? You reap what you sow. Attack the master of the house, and God just might smite you. Hallelujah and amen. Good riddance.
Although I do feel just the tiny bit bad for the rooster. That's not the way I'd want to go out. Just don't tell him I said that.
UPDATE: Pace said the reason the rooster died was probably that he fought the raccoons while the others escaped and hid. Now I feel bad. Sheesh. I wish you would've been a little nicer to us when you were alive, but we do appreciate that you sacrificed yourself for your ladies.