In addition, our first chicken, Paul died after being left in a rabbit cage in the sun. Being a chicken she also flipped her water over. There was much crying and another chicken burial. It was sad but also hard to fully mourn a chicken murderer.
Sarah recently informed us there was a tiny chicken or big little bird in the backyard. Of course our first instinct is to tell her she is seeing things. I looked and found nothing. Emma's friend claimed she could hear something coming from our stack of shingles that need to be tossed. Then, our back neighbor's head pops over the fence and inform us he is missing some quail. Quail? Hey, I won't say anything about his quail if he says nothing about our chickens. We cornered the quail, Howard put it in the rabbit cage of death and handed it over the fence to the neighbor. Turns out Sarah wasn't seeing things.