As I was driving a co-worker home, in my new 2006 Dodge Charger R/T, the phone rang, and I saw it was my husband. I quickly called him back, and after I said hello, all I heard was, cheep cheep, cheep cheep, cheep cheep, cheep cheep...
He gave me the news that our new chicks had arrived, but the good news was followed by very sad news. Out of 15 chicks that we had ordered, only 2 had survived. Something had gotten into the box, 4 chicks were found dead, 9 were gone. The scene of the crime was a mess of blood and feathers.
The only clue left was a tuft of chicken feathers sitting near the deck behind the house.
Upon investigation of all the facts, it turns out that the hatchery had transposed 2 numbers of his cell phone, so the post office never notified us that the chicks had been delivered.
So, we are left with two traumatized chicks, that I have named, Blondie and Stevie. Two dogs that are excited about our new arrivals. In fact, Bogey our older dog, decided to pick Stevie up for further examination. He quickly dropped the frazzled and now somewhat slimy chick upon command.
After getting them temporarily situated in a safe place, we went to Tractor Supply and got the supplies we needed to host our new guests.
They have been fed, watered, and given some tender loving care. They quickly went to sleep with bellies full, and a warming lamp over their heads.
DH has already set a trap for the suspected perpetrator of the massacre, a raccoon we had scene the night before. After putting up the chicks, he went to let the dogs back in. Our intrepid hunter Abbey was sniffing, whining, and scratching at the deck, as if there were something underneath. He later saw the same raccoon sniffing at the trap. Hopefully, we'll catch the rascal in the next night. What we'll do about it then is anyone's guess.