goodness, gracious.

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After a weekend immersed in gratitude we woke up to five dead chickens scattered throughout the yard. Front, back, garden.

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One partially eaten, the others simply killed. I am having a hard time feeling gracious toward the most likely culprit, a raccoon. I suppose we were resting on our laurels of a low predator summer. That, and not double checking the coup door. 

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It did put a damper on the morning but we managed today. Thinking of those chickens who were living it up in the twilight while we were celebrating at a gratitude fire, seeing friends and making new ones.

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