An unbearable tragedy took place in my new home, a few days ago. The family with who I live used to have some chicken, a practical way to get some free eggs of excellent quality. Used to. This very special morning, the father of my host family got back into the living room just after leaving for work and told us to come and see what was happening : The door of the chicken’s little park was open.
La porte du poulailler était lamentablement ouverte
Every single chicken had been killed, probably by some fox walking around. A sad day indeed.
Of course, I won’t publish the pictures of dead chicken which would be of particular horror to the tender eyes of our youngest readers.
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