Chomp Goes the Weasel

Well, I dug a hole and buried a chicken, this morning. We lost 3 out of our smaller brood of 8, last night, the youngest gang of our flock. 5 of them are left, so we'll move them in with the bigger ones now, because it appears that Nettle, the rooster of the group, was one of them, sadly. We liked him. I couldn't even identify the poor bird I buried, pretty gruesome, and the two others were nowhere to be found. Signs of a weasel, I'd say? Ironically, we left 5 of that group in a big bush in the front yard last night, because they have been deciding to roost there and there were only the 3 in their coop. We were worried about the ones out in the bush, but figured they would most likely be okay, and we would work on training them into the big coop tomorrow, but ironically it was the 3 in the coop that got plucked off? So, we're lucky we left most of them roosting in the bush! Also, the irony is not lost on me that yesterday was #NationalPopGoesTheWeaselDay?! No. Kidding. So, we've been listening to variations of that song to boot. Celie said that's like killing someone because it's your birthday, which is fairly accurate. Of all the nerve! Life is ironic. #CelebrateEveryDay whether you want to or not, I reckon?