The Great Chicken Massacre

Last night was the Great Chicken Massacre. I was awakened (at 3 am to be exact) by the worried clucks which quickly became chicken screams accompanied by a huge flapping of wings, as though something was attacking them. I donned my robe, and ran out barefoot, hoping it was my neighbor's flock. But no, as soon as I ran over the wet grass and dirt to the back-forty, I saw at once that it was my chickens. In my haste I had foolishly run out sans flashlight, and so I stood there squinting, peering into the dark chicken coop. I could dimly see a dark motionless lump sprawled inside on the ground, and the others were crowded into the corner near the door. Something scrabbled near the top and I thought the marauders were on the roof. Then to my horror, I saw a shadowy figure leap down, inside the run, and pace around looking for an escape. A raccoon had torn it's way through the wire into my chicken coop. The chickens immediately began their awful shrieking as though dying, and I realized I had no weapon with which to defend myself once I opened the door. Oh well I thought, I couldn't wait any longer. I opened the door and picked up two of the hysterical hens, and, leaving the door open, I went to the garage where I went past an extremely interested Tobin (our big St. Bernard/Australian Shepard mix) into a separate, smaller side where my Harley is housed. Gently putting down the shell-shocked hens, I went back out to retrieve the rest. I discovered that one of them is lame. After all were safely in the garage, then I went up into the house to get my flashlight. (A bit late there Terry!) The light revealed one hapless chicken, badly mangled and quite dead. After disposing of the carcass, I went inside. Being absolutely wide awake, with sleep out of the question, I washed the mud and wet grass off my feet, made a fresh pot of coffee and settled down with Dean Koontz's "Frankenstein" - a fitting novel for my mood. What a night. I'll have to repair the fence today after work - oh joy. Poor chickens - I can't help but feel terrible - they trusted me to shelter them safely, and I failed. Boo hoo.