Survival of the Fittest

On Sunday afternoon, Ian summoned me to the barn and pointed out two sets of animal tracks: one set of animal prints walking into the barn and one set of chicken prints walking out of the barn.

Some wildlife apparently sneaked into the barn looking for a chicken dinner, and the chicken dinner cunningly ran circles around it, escaping to blissful freedom.

Ian: "We have some smart chickens."

Laura: "We're down to the four who out-foxed the foxes."

Ian: "And we started out with ten."

Laura: "It's literally survival of the fittest at this point. We're left with the strongest and the brainiest. If I had known that, I would have named these last four Charlotte Darwin or Alberta Einstein or something."

Famous last words.

A mere day later, Ian and I prepped for an evening walk with the dog. I pulled on Winnie's harness while Ian went to put up the chickens for the night.

Winnie and I grew impatient in the driveway as Ian took longer than usual to tuck the chickens into bed.

Suddenly a cat streaked past us, flying down the driveway. Ian came running after it.

Ian: "I have to get a flashlight! Marjorine is missing! I had to chase that cat away."

Missing: one white and red hen. Matches the barn.

Damn. When an animal has been skulking in the backyard, it usually means we have one less chicken.

We searched the yard by the fuzzy glow of the flashlight, looking for a mound of white feathers from poor dead Marjorine.

Ian ventured into the greenhouse.

Ian: "Oh my god!"

Crap. He found poor dead Marjorine.

Then I heard Ian laughing.

Poor guy. All the chicken carnage has gone to his head. He's lost his mind.

Ian: "Look! Look!"

I walked to the greenhouse, cringing, scared to see Marjorine's bloody carcus.

Ian pulled back an aluminum tray revealing a hidden Marjorine, calm, peaceful, and serene. Our little Marjie had outsmarted the cat.

Then Ian lifted up Marjorine and showed me a couple week's worth of eggs. Marjorine had been nesting and hiding her eggs in the greenhouse, lest we take her babies.

"What a good mommy," I cooed.

And that's how Marjorine proved, once again, she's a smart chicken. We're signing her up to take the SAT nex week.