The great chicken massacre of 2014 and the buttressing of Cluckingham…

Alas, there is sad news to report from the Palace of Cluckingham in the Kingdom of Eagle Ridge.  We have known since the loss of our most treasured subject that a foul marauder was afoot in our territory, but we naively believed it to reside solely outside of the fortress walls (barn…).  Alas, nigh three days ago, we were proven wrong when two more subjects were found dead, this time within our fortress walls.  They had been cruelly snatched from their home, drug out from among their kin, and devoured.

Their temporary home deemed unsafe, we doubled down on our efforts to complete their permanent residence.  By the setting of the sun, Cluckingham Palace was deemed secure, though still unfinished.  One by one, our remaining subjects were carried across the Aisle of Barn and into their new home.  They rejoiced and set about their regular tasks of eating, scratching in the dirt, and making noise.  And we, their devoted leaders, slept soundly that night, believing our chickeny subjects to be safe from harm.

We should not have slept so soundly.

The dastardly fiend who had so cruelly murdered her kin struck again, this time killing our second to last speckled sussex.  He was more clever in his ill intent that we had believed, and he had pulled our temporary defenses (wire stretched across where the door will go) away from the rest of the Palace.

This time he left tracks and fur.  We then knew our enemy.

Sadly, the King of Eagle Ridge (Jeremiah) was away, leaving me, the almostfarmgirl Queen of Cluckingham home alone to discover the aftermath of the slaying and to defend my defenseless subjects.

My defenseless subjects
My defenseless subjects
More defenseless subjects
More defenseless subjects

With no King in sight, I did what any Queen under siege should do.  I reinforced the defenses of my subjects, and I called for my Allies to aid me in their protection.

Lady Gabriella was the first to come to my aid.  Using zipties, we tightened the temporary wire down, leaving no gaps through which our dastardly predator (a raccoon, in case you were wondering…) could enter to terrorize our subjects.

Lady Gabriella at work
Lady Gabriella at work
Zipties reinforcing our defenses.
Zipties reinforcing our defenses.

Then, Sir Hezekiah, the user of power tools, screwed in boards along the bottom, for we could not allow the enemy to dig into the Palace.

Finally, I called upon my Sir Kent (my dad – who by the way grew up on a HUGE working farm…erm…I mean kingdom…) to walk the perimeter of the Palace to look for weaknesses in our defenses.

Securing a window that he identified as a fatal flaw in the safety features of the coop.
Securing a window that he identified as a fatal flaw in the safety features of the coop.
Read: Stop taking pictures for your blog and hand me a washer...
Read: Stop taking pictures for your blog and hand me a washer…

We baited a trap for the foul beast who has claimed the lives of four of our dear subjects but have not caught the villain.  However, since the buttressing of Cluckingham Palace, our subjects have been safe from harm.

And, I assure you, loyal readers, the days of the dastardly raccoon are numbered.


14 thoughts on “The great chicken massacre of 2014 and the buttressing of Cluckingham…

    1. The coon will likely die of a severe case of lead poisoning…though, given that he left Paris Hilton’s head (Paris Hilton was, of course, the name of the Speckled Sussex…because what else would you name a diva with an unearned sense of self-importance?) just outside of the coop, your idea does have some poetic merit.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Sir Raccoon’s feindish days are numbered… and, to quote the Queen of Hearts, “OFF WITH HIS HEAD!” Honestly. How much chicken can a coon eat, anyway? Well done on reinforcing your palace walls… there are other, larger beasties out there just waiting to lay seige. Perhaps it is time for the King to consider breaking out the heavy artillery. By which I mean a .22. It should do the job nicely, I think…


  2. Oh no. I had no idea raccoons ate chickens. I sometimes imagine it would be nice to have some chickens here on our place, but I don’t think the reality of it is something I want to undertake. Good luck dealing with the dastardly coon.


      1. Trust me, they do. Many years ago my husband and I heard a bunch of clucking from our coop. It was a dark night, so we went out to see what was up. Hubby had a flashlight with him. A skunk was set on have a chicken leg for dinner and was doing its best to get that leg. Hubby hit him with his flashlight over and over again. Took some time to get that skunk’s attention.

        Okay, fine, a flashlight isn’t the best weapon, but the chicken lived and the skunk didn’t. We almost died from the smell, but you don’t want me to get started with hubby and the skunk stories.


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