At ten in the evening, all was well. By dawn, something was very wrong. The first sight on approaching the chicken run was one of the residents slumped on the ladder up to the hutch. All was silent, which did not bode well.
Two chickens had gone missing entirely and another was found dead, apparently having been dragged under the damaged chicken wire.
So the four brown chickens had all been killed. The identity of the preditor is in doubt. Perhaps it was a badger, or a polecat, or more likely a fox.
The chicken run fence needs to be strengthened, and the children must have it all explained appropriately.
We already had three or four new chickens on the way. They had been intended to supplement, not replace, the brown ones. Meanwhile, Rosie, the white chicken, continues in her old agae.