Digger had woken the house up at around 2am last night, barking so loud that Jonas was sure they must've had an intruder. After a full look around of the house and offices they'd been unable to find anything. Still, Jonas had slept very uneasy, the current unseasonable heat of the house making him toss and turn uncomfortably, and his strange dreams that seemed to consist mostly of unnerving noises making sure he awoke feeling tireder than ever.
What he'd found out by the stables this morning however, had been worse than any nightmare. Ginger had turned into a kicking, snorting, wild-eyed thing. Her chest and forelegs bore scratches and cuts galore, from where she'd tried to get out of the stall in panic in the night, she'd thrown a shoe, and she was in a terrible sweat. Worse was to come when he discovered the carnage in the poultry coops. At least six of the ten day old chicks, the rooster, and two of his best laying hens were all dead, beaks ripped open, and puncture wounds bleeding them dry. There were no eggs to be had this morning, even the ducks hadn't laid.
He'd cleaned the worst of the mess up, taking the corpses out of the animal's living quarters, and tried to calm Ginger as best he could before sending word to the veterinarian and the farrier. He tried to get Digger to scent around the premises, but the dog refused to go anywhere near the stables, whining and yowling piteously when Jonas tried to get him to go.
He'd come back to the house shaking and angry. He knew of no natural predator that could've spooked his stock so, and there were no signs of entry, nor footprints to indicate human mischief. It just seemed so random and goddamn senseless.
He was currently walking up and down on the porch, coffee in one hand, thumbing his lucky fob watch with the other, waiting impatiently for help for the animals.