All Gone

Both boys got personalized mugs from their Grandma Knapp for Christmas.

This is Connor's.

Most people who know us know that we have chickens and ducks.

This is our fourth year raising chickens and our first for ducks.

We truly enjoy our feathered friends.

Connor is our resident chicken whisperer.

When he's outside he almost always has a chicken in his arms...

even if we're trying to leave for town.

Sometimes I'll holler instructions as we go out the door for Connor

not to pick up a chicken because we're leaving.

Why do you need to pet a chicken when we're getting in the van?

(I guess it's just evidence of children.)

We've really enjoyed the ducks too.

It's fun to watch them play in the puddles when it's raining.

Meanwhile, all the chickens are under the carport watching the ducks as if they're crazy.

Not to mention that Connor can eat their eggs.

Unfortunately, our feathered friends have had a tragic ending.

Sunday, as we were leaving for church,

I opened the door to let the chickens out and

discovered there had been a chicken massacre.

My heart sank as I discovered more and more chicken/duck horror.

I'm glad the boys didn't discover it.

As I opened the back door we realized the varment that did it was still in there.

Pepper made a valiant effort to get the angry little critter.

It put up a good fight and ran under the chicken coop.

After a time of coaxing it from under the coop, it ran to Dwayne's car.

Of course it climbed up under the hood.

I'll make the long story short: the angry villain came to a timely end.

We thought it was a weasel but later learned it was a mink.

By the time we got the stinking mink (and it really did smell bad),

it was too late to make it to church.

Not to mention that we were all shocked and upset at loosing our entire flock.

All of them.  All gone.

That's a rooster, six hens, and two ducks.

Connor took it the hardest, which upset us even more.