In the spring of 2025, my husband decided that the chicken coop we had originally built just wasn’t cutting it for our growing little flock. He did what any thoughtful husband would do and announced, “We’re going to rebuild your chicken coop and run.” After some research, we ordered an inexpensive 10×12 storage shed from Amazon to repurpose as a new coop. The instructions were terrible, the siding was cheaply made, but we figured it would do the job. As it turned out, we didn’t actually start assembling it until October.
In the meantime, we slid our old coop out of the way and continued using it. The routine was simple and had worked perfectly for months: free-range during the day, locked up safely at night. Until it didn’t.
The day before Thanksgiving, I heard a commotion outside. I didn’t think much of it at first. We had two roosters, and their daily bickering was nothing new. Around noon, our daughters came home and casually announced, “Do you know you have a dead chicken in the front yard?” I’m sure the neighbors weren’t impressed. No, I did not know that. Sometimes chickens just randomly die. I don’t think much of it. It’s not pleasant, but it’s part of having livestock.
I went outside to take a look but had about an hour of work left, so I decided I’d deal with it shortly. Less than fifteen minutes later, our neighbor across the driveway rang the doorbell. She looked shaken. “I just watched a fox carry off one of your chickens,” she said. That was all it took. It was suddenly all hands on deck.
All four kids came outside with me, and what we found was heartbreaking. At first, there were no chickens in sight. My stomach dropped. Then we started seeing feathers. Piles of them. In our yard, the neighbor’s yard to the east, and the neighbor’s yard to the west. Five chickens were gone. Our poor rooster, Rusty, was still alive but barely, huddled beneath a bush. He had fought bravely, but his injuries were too severe, and we ultimately had to put him out of his misery.
We did manage to find one hen still alive, though she had puncture wounds. She came into the garage, received some much-needed care, and thankfully survived. She’s now safely settled into the new coop with the rest of the remaining flock.
The new coop still needs some finishing touches. We plan to build a proper roof over the run; for now, it’s covered in heavy-duty tarps to keep the chickens in and the hawks out. We knew there were foxes in the area, likely more than one, but it was the middle of the day. I never imagined a fox attack would happen so boldly, in broad daylight.
Five chickens fewer, a beloved rooster lost, and a hard lesson learned—sometimes, even when you think your system is working just fine, nature has other plans.
TOP PHOTO: Hungry red fox standing before henhouse showing tongue. (iStock │ #687460018 – phalder)
Rebuilt chicken coop and run (Photos by Alissa Weece)
