(IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PART 1, GO READ IT!)
At this point, we had 3 young adult chickens, and 4 chicks. 2 of the chicks were Rhode island reds, and the other two were Golden laced Wyandottes. The chicks weren't even a week old, so they were having trouble with their eyes. They kept getting dust from the garage around their eyes, which in a way "glued" them shut. One specific chick, Aurora (Named after "Au" for the atomic symbol of gold) had trouble with her eyes. Tammy, the other Wyandotte, was a completely normal chick. However, Bubby and Rascal, the Reds were never quiet. We could hear continuous peeps from the garage. They never grew out of that. However, those chicks were awfully uneventful apart from those attributes. Once they grew to be in the big coop, we actually had to set them into a different compartment, because Fancy and Speedy kept on attacking them. Patriot would always protect them, even though Patriot had no interest in having anything to do with the little chickens. Eventually, they were big enough to roam free, although Fancy kept on attacking them. One morning, the dogs escaped from the door, which was foolishly left open. All chickens were fine, but we couldn't find Patriot. Eventually, she emerged from a bush, unscathed. The chickens had just grown far too quick for the dogs. Later that day, we realized why we needed more coverage over the chicken area. We were searching for all of the small chickens. We found Tammy in a bush, petrified, Bubby in the coop run, Rascal running around a tree, and... a big pile of Wyandotte feathers. We knew Tammy wasn't attacked, but I had no time to think before I was sent inside. "They're my chickens, I should be able to help you find Aurora!" I got nothing more than another "Go inside." After a while, I looked out a window. There, across the yard, in the now vacant next door house, was a toppled over chicken, missing a major portion of feathers. No blood, but she was certainly dead. The chickens don't go over there now. After that, we made hawk traps, electrified the dog fence, and kept all doors shut, and added things to distract aerial predators. But little did we know, that would not stop the next attack.
At this point, we had 3 young adult chickens, and 4 chicks. 2 of the chicks were Rhode island reds, and the other two were Golden laced Wyandottes. The chicks weren't even a week old, so they were having trouble with their eyes. They kept getting dust from the garage around their eyes, which in a way "glued" them shut. One specific chick, Aurora (Named after "Au" for the atomic symbol of gold) had trouble with her eyes. Tammy, the other Wyandotte, was a completely normal chick. However, Bubby and Rascal, the Reds were never quiet. We could hear continuous peeps from the garage. They never grew out of that. However, those chicks were awfully uneventful apart from those attributes. Once they grew to be in the big coop, we actually had to set them into a different compartment, because Fancy and Speedy kept on attacking them. Patriot would always protect them, even though Patriot had no interest in having anything to do with the little chickens. Eventually, they were big enough to roam free, although Fancy kept on attacking them. One morning, the dogs escaped from the door, which was foolishly left open. All chickens were fine, but we couldn't find Patriot. Eventually, she emerged from a bush, unscathed. The chickens had just grown far too quick for the dogs. Later that day, we realized why we needed more coverage over the chicken area. We were searching for all of the small chickens. We found Tammy in a bush, petrified, Bubby in the coop run, Rascal running around a tree, and... a big pile of Wyandotte feathers. We knew Tammy wasn't attacked, but I had no time to think before I was sent inside. "They're my chickens, I should be able to help you find Aurora!" I got nothing more than another "Go inside." After a while, I looked out a window. There, across the yard, in the now vacant next door house, was a toppled over chicken, missing a major portion of feathers. No blood, but she was certainly dead. The chickens don't go over there now. After that, we made hawk traps, electrified the dog fence, and kept all doors shut, and added things to distract aerial predators. But little did we know, that would not stop the next attack.