feathers in heaven

I was in the loom room yesterday at about three when there was something-glancing-off-the slider-type bonk. I expected a confused junco, but there was nothing, so I moved to the side window and saw, about four feet away, that a fox had taken Buffy. The fox didn't see me, and I think Buffy was past seeing anything after the fox's initial rush. He (perhaps she) kept stopping to spit out feathers, but he carried Buffy's limp body into the woods and I watched them go.

It was all very fast. I had just fed Buffy an hour before so I know she went feeling well taken care of. It was also early enough in the afternoon that I would not have had her in the coop even if she had still consented to go. I had known she was in a sort of "Live Free or Die" (state motto) way of life-- I was going to defy her wishes and get her into a friend's flock as soon as it snowed, but it hasn't yet-- and on the whole I think suddenly getting nailed beats freezing to death. But she was a lovely bird and I valued her friendship.

The fox was beautiful, too.