Jeff moved from Tallahassee to Tennessee almost a year and a half ago when his husband Rob got his dream job there. Thanks to modern technology, he was able to keep his job here.
And, lucky for me, he had to come to Tally for some meetings, and had Saturday free to spend with me. Of course, we had to go hang out at the museum. He volunteered there for a decade or so; in fact, it's how we met.
It was lovely just hanging out. Usually, wherever I'm am, I'm there for a reason. Get it done and go home. And I think it had to be good for Jeff. He's been quite lonely. Rob actually goes into work with other people, and travels a lot in his job. Jeff works from home. They bought a house which needed a *lot* of fixing up, then they both got Covid, then Jeff got diagnosed with heart failure and had his bypass and recovery. All of this adds up to not much chance to try to get out and meet people. But at the museum - it seemed that everywhere we strolled, we'd see the big smiles and hear "Omygod it's Jeff!" and people would come running over.
Then we had lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall Caribbean place that has pineapple bowls served in a hollowed out pineapple half.
So a great day. Then I came home, I had brought the pineapple shells home for the chickens to pick at. As I walked to the pen, I saw chicken legs sticking out from under the door. It was Lizard, my hen who would often lay tiny "fairy" eggs - less than an inch long. I would leave them out by a small gargoyle as an offering to the fae folk.
Dammit dammit dammit dammit. Can't I be allowed to have one nice day without being kicked in the gut?
There's just nothing much that can be done to stop a determined raccoon. I had reinforced the threshold, but there is still a tiny gap between it and the door (I can just get a finger in there.) I think I know what may have happened. Chickens are both curious and stupid. Possibly the raccoon was feeling around, with those slender active little hands, and the hen thought it looked interesting and went over to peck at it - and got grabbed. I won't get graphic here, but it wasn't pretty.
Quick funeral - because I had to get back to the living before the raccoon did. At this point, I moved the remaining three hens to my back deck. It's far from ideal; they are poop machines and I don't have running water back there, so I'll be doing a lot of daily water hauling and scrubbing. Also - the back deck is wired in with chicken wire, and we've had raccoons break in there in the past. But as long as I'm at home, I'll be able to hear if something happens (which I can't if they're in the coop) and I'm shutting them into a dog kennel at night.
And once again praying that it's enough.
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