Damn golden retriever.
The boy who was scared of my three chickens has now decided that one chicken is ok (the other two are still terrifying). Yes, Bailey has fallen in love with my Salmon Faverolle.
His favorite pastime (which sends me into a freakish squawking frenzy when I see it) is to lay down with her in between his front paws and lick her back. This often involves unfortunate plucking of lower back feathers. Horrifying.
So now, my poor faverolle looks like this:
Notice the lack of feathers at the base of her back. The poor thing. She freezes into place, terrified, with him, and it breaks my heart.
So, this morning, I caught the golden at it again. He got massively punished and stuck in the bathroom (everywhere else he could play with cats or stare out the window, and that didn't seem like just punishment). Five minutes later, I peeked in, and he was the sorriest looking puddle of golden retriever I've ever seen. SAD.
So, he's out now, but I'm still ticked at him. Maddie gets to be outside right now, he doesn't.
Meanwhile, our yard is littered with feathers.
Looks like I need to start building the new coop (that's going to go closer to the house) soon. I was going to wait a few more weeks, but I think I need to provide the faverolle with another place to hide sooner than that.
"It was horrible, I tell you."
The poor dear.