My fine feathered friends are happiest after a nice rain. They love scratching in the compost pile. Sadly, one day they all were carrying on with such intensity. I looked out the back door and to my dismay, a big old dog stood with one of the hens in his mouth. By the time I made it to the poor little hen, it was too late. Meanwhile the other chickens went into hiding while I chased the dog off. I had never seen it before, nor have I since. I'm just more attentive to them while they are out free ranging. They sure know how to hide. It took hours that evening to flush them out of hiding and days to get them back to normal. It was a traumatic experience for us all.
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