From 'The Housekeeper' by Beverly Cochran pg. 3
"It was Monday the fourteenth, and I was feeding my hens. A weasel had been in the run. The young blonde chicken lay beheaded and with her guts eaten out. Feathers, soft, blonde, pinky feathers lay in a line along the edge of the feed trough. The other hens were grouped together at the back of the pen."
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