My husband and I go out every night to supervise our chickens while they free range for an hour. We used to let them out all day until one disappeared. When we saw a fox later prowling around the coop, we decided that poor Pidgie ended up in the fox's belly. Now we are the evening guardians while we pray our rosary and do some spiritual reading together. (Our evening activity is a metaphor for what the laity must do these days to defend the flock from the foxes and wolves invading the coop. Unfortunately, many who remain theologically true shepherds often will not act out of fear of reprisal. Thank God for the few, like Bishop Strickland, who will.)
