This started a mini panic session, what if a fox had gotten into the garden and taken her? She was the closest one to laying and she was my favourite because of her love of cuddles. She had to be found!
I shouted to The Chicken Hunter to get out and help me find her. Eyes welling (although I would never admit that in public), I began looking in the vast shrubbery that is our garden. Searching beneath and behind, looking not only for Red herself, but also for any sign that she had been got!
There was nothing. We probably had to extend the search into the woods at the bottom of the garden (if I was a chicken I would head that way).
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| The Amazing Vanishing Hen herself |
First though I checked the front drive-way. If she had gone over the front fence, there was a good chance that she had become one of the many local dogs' dinner. Eyes still welling, I glanced around the front way and checked for signs of my beloved Red. Nothing. I left the drive and walked down the road a way, checking under the un-manicured hedge that lined the neighbours' fences, gently calling Red by name then falling silent in the hope of her answering me back. Nothing. I walked the other way, checking front gardens as I went and still nothing.
The Chicken Hunter had taken the initiative a gone, stick-in-hand, into the woods. On my down-hearted return to the garden he was returning, hen under one arm, through the back gate. Arms outstretched I ran towards him "Red!" I squealed with joy. It was like a scene from a bad romance novel, all it needed was a beach and lapping waves in the background.
Much to her disgust, Red found herself locked away in the run for the remainder of the day. I did not need another emotional rollercoaster if she decided to disappear again.
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