Henny Penny Farmette

The heat drove me from bed this morning around 6 a.m. Northern California is in the midst of a triple-digit heat wave and there’s not much relief at night.

I made coffee, as I always do as soon after rising, and peeked out the back sliding glass door. I can see into the chicken house because my husband installed windows. The chickens were still on the roost. I’d have time for a swallow or two of coffee.

Then I heard what sounded like a knock at the front door. Padding across the living room in bare feet, I opened it, half expecting to see my daughter (also an early riser; she likes making runs to Starbucks for her coffee).

It wasn’t my daughter. It was a small fox. The poor thing seemed as startled to see me as I was to see it.

When the fox bounded off the porch, I saw the other two. Yes, there were three–a whole family–in my front yard. Perhaps they came down from the hills of Mount Diablo to search for water or food . . . so back to the chickens I went.

Certain that there was no way for the foxes to get into the chicken run, I let the hens out; gave them food and water. Then, after searching the property for those little foxes, I went back to enjoy my coffee while the sun rose to begin roasting the Bay Area.

Tags: Bay Area, chickens, foxes, heat, Northern California, water