I couldn't resist that title. No, it's not a self-reference.
The fox decided that this was a great local take-out place and came back a week later, again before dusk and this time heading right into the chicken coop to take two more. The hens had been out in their run, and when R went out to close them up before it got dark she found the feathers, chaos, and three very scared-looking survivors. So in just over a week, we're down seven hens. Grrr.
It was bold, to be sure, but we were thinking a mother with kits to feed. Then last night D came to the house to get hockey gear while we were out, and saw not one, but two foxes patrolling along the driveway. One made the circle around the coop, which since the last attack has been almost hermetically sealed. Plans are afoot for a sniper's nest, or napalm, or something like that.
Time to close this restaurant.