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Well it was bound to happen. And it has.

Our flock is down one hen.

RIP, dear Babs.

A young Redtail Hawk took out one of our Buff Orpingtons this afternoon. James went up to the coop to check on the girls, and there, happily dining inside the fence, was this asshole.

The rest of the girls were huddled inside the coop, under the coop, and even in a barn stall, hiding out, hoping to avoid a similar fate.

After scaring off the hawk, James returned to the house and broke the news to Sunny.

The conversation went as follows:

Him: I have some bad news, sweetie. A hawk killed one of our chickens. 

Her (eyes wide as saucers): ALL of our chickens?

Him: No, just one. The hawk was hungry, so she ate Babs for a snack.

Her: Did the hawk eat Dora, too?

Him: No, just Babs.

Her: (a pause to contemplate the news)… But we still have more chickens. The hawk didn’t eat all of our chickens. Just one. Because she was hungry. But we still have chickens! It’s okay. I’ll tell Mommy that we’ll get her a new Babs. It’s alright because we still have chickens. They didn’t ALL get eaten.

She broke the news to me over the phone, and explained everything in just this fashion. When James got back on the phone I asked him if he had explained to her that it was okay because we still had eight chickens left. And he explained that no, she really had come to that conclusion all on her own.

And for this, and so many other reasons, this little girl is my hero.

Later that afternoon, Addison took to comforting the remaining flock, and went with James to lay Babs’ body (what remained of it anyway) to rest out in our meadow.

I never thought I’d be so inspired by a three-year old. I hope that I can do the same for her one day.