UPDATE: She's alive!!

Luckily I am an urban farmer with high self-esteem, because this story is a wee bit embarrassing:

Beulah was in the coop the whole time. Fah reals.

Here's the lesson: when your chicken is the exact same color as straw, she can camouflage herself better than a chameleon.

Jennie and I got out the high-powered flashlight and surveyed the inside of the coop 2-3 times. No Beulah. No beady eye even catching the powerful beam of light. Nothing. No yellow future egg-layer. Hence, the RIP post.

This morning, after weak chai tea and a fried egg, I headed down to the coop, opened the door and out pops Beulah! An avian miracle baby! She must have been burrowed down deep in the soft straw wondering why I was disturbing her dusk-induced nap with a big-ass ray of light.

So, there you have it people. You need to rummage around in the coop for bodies before declaring them victims of the neighborhood chicken hawk.