Why I’m not cut out to be a “real” farmer.

This morning, when I went out to feed my chickens, I discovered that something killed one of my leghorn hens. More accurately, it beheaded it. 

When I’ve gotten newly hatched chickens, I knew and expected that some wouldn’t make it. I was prepared for that and cried just a little when I found ones that didn’t survive. This is different, though. I raised these chickens since they hatched. And some stupid animal had to kill it for no good reason other than… well, animal instinct I guess. 

I hate nature. 

This is the first time I’ve lost a grown chicken and I think it’s fair to use the loaded term “hysterical” to describe my response. I cried until I threw up. Logically, I know that this kind of things happens on farms, but we worked so hard to reinforce the fencing and make sure nothing could get in. I don’t know how a predator got to them. I mean, I’ve literally checked all the fencing 20 times. I guess it’s going to have to be 21.

I don’t know what it was that could have gotten in there, but it would have gone in solely for the chickens and was small. We don’t leave feed out and it seemed to have pulled her out of the hen house, which has a very small opening. I’m surprised it got a leghorn, though. I also have bantams and jungle fowl, both small breeds that I would suppose to be easier targets.

I guess there’s no need to ruminate on this. Instead, I need to be mending fences. 

I can’t help but feel like this is my fault.