I lay in bed, cringing.
At 6.30, they started again. Fearing a fox (and we haven't attached the skirt to their temporary 4mx2m run), I had to get up and check.
No fox.
I opened the window and "ssshd" them, which provided relief for about 10 seconds. There was a pigeon roostibgbon the top of their run. I shut the window, and decided not to get back into bed. If I did that, I'd just feel like carp for the rest of the day.
I went downstairs to make tea.
In the kitchen, I could still hear the girls, and I looked out of the window.
There was a dead black thing in the free range area.
I walled round to the kitchen door, and saw the cats were also staring at the corpse. Lewis, usually the.less bold, was stopped halfway through the catflap.
I went out, and Lewis went ahead of me, body low to the ground in hunting mode (him, not me).
I couldn't understand it. How had I left a girl out? Or had a fox managed to get one of them? Hiw cone tge others were all ok? The Oldies were lined up against the side of their run, watching.
Lewis reached the carcass first. I saw a wing get lifted up a little in the wind, and I wondered if it had been dropped by a kittiwake.
Many pairs of eyes were on me. I braced myself as I got to the fence.
Lewis and I looked atbeach other.
It was a large bit of black bin bag.
I retrieved it, and turned to take it into the kitchen for burial. A round of grateful chickeny applause broke out.
Lewis went on patrol.
