Coming home to roost

The farmer was distraught. Thirteen of his wife’s beloved chickens lay scattered around the run in a sea of ginger and white feathers. The majority of the recently deceased lay almost untouched; simply bitten, shaken then dropped in favour of the next victim. A few survivors huddled nervously in the corner of the barn, shocked by the terrifying ordeal they had witnessed the previous night, with several others missing.

“The majority of the deceased lay almost untouched”

This wasn’t the first time I’d seen such carnage and I could offer little other comfort than to suggest that there may well be a few survivors that had escaped out of the barn and would likely find their way back over the next day or two. The words that seemed to comfort the couple