There's a possum in the chicken coop!

Every night I tuck the chickens in.  Just after dusk I go out and look in the coop, identify the occupants and tell them goodnight.

"There's Carmen and Buttercup and Pepper. Goodnight ladies and gentleman.  Sleep well"  it's a little bit ritualistic but it works for us.

Then I firmly secure their door.

Last night was a little different, I went out, opened the top and looked in.  Buttercup made a run for it, dashing out the door before I could fasten it closed.  She apparently wanted to take advantage of every last bit of daylight and was not really ready for bed.  I grumbled under my breath and rather than chase her decided to just try again in a bit.

Time got away from me and I didn't get back out there until about 9:00.  WELL after dark.  I opened the lid, there sat Buttercup on the perch.  But no Carmen and no Pepper.  I stood on my tippy toes and looked down at the floor of the coop and there was the biggest, ugliest possum I had ever seen and a whole lot of black feathers.  I didn't know what to do.  I didn't want to leave Buttercup alone in the coop with that monster but I had to get help.  I very quickly reasoned that if Buttercup had been okay up until then, she would probably be okay for another minute, minute and a half.  It was a risk I would have to take.

I closed the lid and went running into the house yelling:

"Peter!  There's a possum in the chicken coop!!" 

He ran out there and quickly and efficiently removed the dreaded vermin.  It has since met with a terrible accident.  I am not even a little sad by this.

Anyway - Pepper was quickly located.  He had escaped and ended up in a nearby over-flow ditch that contained about 18 inches of water.  He was wet, had a nasty wound on his leg and was sporting a disheveled, half-plucked look.  Poor boy.  He's in the kitchen in sick bay conveniently located near Salt in the maternity ward.  Today he tried to get out of his box and into hers.  I think he's feeling better.

Carmen was harder to find.  There were very few of her feathers in the coop so we assumed she had escaped and was in hiding.  Chickens don't generally come when you call them and Carmen was no different.  We called and clucked (ineffectually), we searched through the woods, around the houses and Peter finally found her huddled in a snow drift by the north barn, frightened, but completely unharmed.

The status of our fourth chicken is promising.  I think we are very close to having chicks, Salt is starting to behave strangely.  Her chicks should be hatching any day.  She gets hungry, but she stays quite agitated, like she needs to be sitting on her eggs and not taking the time to eat.  She eats and complains and eats and complains.  See?