Some sad notes: Our dear little Puff was attacked, in broad daylight. We believe it was a hawk. At lock-up time, we were all calling and searching, and what we found was a terrible shock. Free-ranging is a risky freedom, and so, until we build the large chicken run, the girls are only out when we are with them, watching, in the late afternoon. Puff was a dear soul, so very mild, and a darling mother. We miss her.
You may recall, our long night, when Flopsy was attacked by the raccoon. We lost our Flopsy bunny, and it still pains us to think of her, and the sad injuries she endured. We redoubled our security measures and vigilance, but to no avail. And I am sorry, and ashamed to say, that the raccoon found the opportunity to take Sanka Rabbit. There is no worse feeling than knowing you failed to prevent something horrible, like this, from happening, twice. Obviously, we are dealing with a stalking, persistent bandit.
Every time we have a pet die I say "no more. I simply cannot bear the sadness of their death" but then I remember the joy and begin searching for another."
My heart breaks, and I raise the fist of indignation, and then I realize it's all my fault for having so many pets in the first place, so I hang my head in sorrowful shame... and then I accept that we love our farm. We love our pets, and we do honestly give them the things they need, and more, for good lives... as best we can, and in return they make us laugh, give eggs, distract us, and calm us, and make us crazy, too. Life cannot be picture perfect. And as long as there are going to be heartaches and tragedies, I choose to take it with funny, fragile, friendly pets. They are good.