Man Down

Or more aptly put, Chicken down.

Ryan came in tonight around 11:00PM from working in the field.  His first question to me was, "What's with all the chicken feathers in the front yard?"  
I was confused but not alarmed.  
"I'm sorry?!?" I responded.
Ryan - "There's chicken feathers in the front lawn...It looks like one of the Barred Rocks."  
Me - "Hmm..that's odd" *still not alarmed or concerned* "I shut them in earlier."
Ryan - "Were they all there?"
Me - "Yeah." - *seriously not thinking twice at this point that something could have been amiss.* "Well, I actually don't know for sure.  I didn't count them, I just closed the door."
Ryan - "I'm going to go count them."  

It must be noted here that Ryan and I have two different styles of parenting our chickens.  I, the under-achieving caretaker, simply close the coop door when I go out at night.  Ryan, the conscientious caretaker, counts to make sure each chicken is in the coop.  Up until this night, all 11 chickens were tucked-in safe and secure.  

But then tonight happened.  What exactly happened is still unclear.  

Ryan confirmed that only 10 chickens were in the coop.  
I started to have that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.  
How could this have happened?  We were doing so well at keeping our chickens alive!
I felt completely responsible for the missing chicken.  I had closed them in for the night without confirming all chicks were accounted for.  

Ryan took me to front door and flipped on the porch light to show me the pile of feathers.  To add insult to injury, Kinzie, our beloved (I use thick sarcasm here) black lab mix, is laying on top of the pile of feathers, chewing on a partially exposed chicken wing.  
Ryan - "I think our dogs have a dark side."
*sigh of sadness*

It was clear from the pile of feathers...and other stuff...that the Barred Rock was not coming back.  

And here is the suspected culprit's mug shot - Sitting pretty and playing innocent.  

At this point not much is known for sure - We are not quite sure of what happened, when it happened, and whether the unfortunate bird was Betsy, Izzie, or Mrs. Butterworth.  
What we do know - We know she's not comin' back and our brood is down to 10.

R.I.P.