When you first get chickens everybody tells you that the fox will get them. We've had ours for a couple of years now without any bother from predators (except a visiting dog that killed five). For quite a while we were very lax, leaving the chicken house open the odd night. Then friends of ours lost all their chickens to something and since then ours have been religiously shut in every night.
A couple of weeks ago we lost one of our red hens. She disappeared without a trace and we came to the conclusion that she must either have gone broody in the hedge with a secret clutch of eggs or a fox got her. It's well known that once a fox finds a stash of tasty hens he'll come back, usually every day, until they're all gone. Yesterday I was just beginning to believe that the red hen couldn't possibly have been taken by a fox because we'd had no problems since. Three other hens have gone broody in the chicken house and because it's the season for it I expected to see the red hen emerge triumphant from the undergrowth any day now with chicks at her side.
Dan and I had been visiting our goats this morning and enjoying a good hearty laugh at the frolics of their kids on the tin roof. We walked up the garden path and both heard a curious noise. It was very obviously from a chicken, but was nothing like any of the calls we'd heard before. We both stopped to listen, looked at each other, then Dan sprinted up the path to the chicken field gate. I ran behind him and we could both see a flash of red fur and the erect ears of a startled fox .... Dan started bellowing like a man possessed and he disappeared into the hedge after the fox thrashing and shouting, doing his best to give it a real scare. Our dog bolted after him barking on the scent and because I was feeling a bit left out of the action I began to shout and screech to hopefully add to the terror of the prowling fox!
Pumped with adrenaline we began counting the chickens. Two of the broodies were still sitting tight on their eggs, but the third broody had disappeared. Out of eight of our chicks we only found four. The rooster was in a terrible state. He was in the chicken house desperately trying to fly up onto the perch bar, but he kept falling hard on his side and was unable to even flutter six inches off the ground. He kept repeatedly trying and falling, his mouth was gaping and he was gasping for breath. I closed the door so he could calm down but he was in severe shock and I knew we could lose him any moment.
In the meantime Dan had found a huge mound of feathers scattered right across the field. There were so many feathers over such a large area we came to the conclusion that they must have been the remains of the four missing chicks and the broody hen. As we made our way back up the field we saw something white next to a clump of grass. It turned out to be two trembling chicks, hunched down in a bid to hide themselves. We carried them up to the chicken house and they seemed unscathed but the rooster was stilling gasping for breath and now just lying on the ground.
We made immediate plans to fence off a large section of the field for the chickens to free range in safely. I went to start making lunch and thinking about how to break the news to the children and Dan began to clear brambles for a new fence. A few minutes later he came bounding in all smiles ... he had found the final two missing chicks and broody hen in the undergrowth, so all hens were accounted for.
The rooster got to his feet and made a timid appearance. He soon stood tall and began to patrol his patch. We spotted a bare patch of skin on his leg and rear ... it seems he put up an amazing fight with the fox to protect his girls and offspring and that all those feathers scattered across the field belonged to him. I'd like to reward him a medal and a special dinner.

So what seemed to be a predetermined
miserable ending actually turned out well. There have been a few things ruffling our family feathers too lately, and I really hope that the chicken's happy ending is a good omen for us.