Until, that is, the pigs cottoned on to the fact that the hens laid treasure inside their coop.
I had considered that the eggs might be an issue. Then again, the nesting box was tucked at the back of the hen house. I didn’t think Butch and Roxi would be wise to the reason why the hens took themselves in there each morning. Through my eyes, the system was pig-proof.
In some ways, the chickens only had themselves to blame. Among the flock was a vocal leghorn who liked to announce that she had laid successfully by squawking for several minutes afterwards. Maybe there was something in the tone that eventually told Butch and Roxi that it was worth investigating, which they carried out much like a police raid on a drug den at dawn.
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