We lost one of our Silver Laced Wyandotte’s sometime during the night. It’s our first, but probably not last death. I’d long ago stopped doing a head count when latching our coop as the girls truly put themselves to bed around dusk. This was after orating on this virtuous trait of the bird yesterday to friends Jay and Anna who are going to be chicken, rabbit and dog sitting so I can leave town and regain some semblance of a sense of humor. A scattering of feathers triggered my peaking over the edge of the planter box and it was a grisly sight. Naturally I want to share.