When I was little, we had chickens...

My grampa loved those chickens and they were well cared for and the eggs were always really good.
One day grampa came home with a rooster because he wanted more chickens. We were all really excited and living out in the country meant no one would be bothered by his crowing.
We had that rooster for a week when grampa found one of the chickens dead in the yard. He was devastated and cried over it. Life went on.
A couple of days later another chicken turned up dead. Grampa feared for foxes and coyotes so he put up a bigger fence.
When the third chicken died grampa looked the poor thing over to try to see what was killing them.
It looked like it had been fucked to death! Grampa was terrified and went to the back to check on his rooster. He found it lying in the back yard, and ran up fearing the worst. When he knelt to pick up the roosters body it whispered:
"Put me down, I'm trying to get a buzzard!!"