From left, Goldie, Cutie Patootie, Sparkle, and Rainbow.

We lost one yesterday. Goldie was with her flock. She found a small open area in the fence of which I was unaware, and chickened her way through it. On the other side, waiting, was our neighbors' two-year-old German shepherd, who made quick work of my poor little chicken. (Not the dog's or the neighbors' fault, of course.) The other chickens were clucking in a way that I knew immediately something awful had happened. When I got outside, there were only three. At first I thought a crow might have gotten Goldie, as there is too much cover where they were for a hawk to swoop down. But then a look over the fence ... The remaining three girls made awful sounds of distress for quite a while -- a kind of keening-caw sound I had never heard from them before. Back in their coop they called for about an hour. Then they quieted down. They are so vulnerable, these little chickens. They don't run fast, they're not great fliers. Like the best of us sometimes their curiosity gets the best of them. They rely on one another -- and on their people -- to look out for danger.