This is the cockerel who was lovingly hatched in the girls' playhouse last Summer, and started life as a gorgeous fluffy yellow chick who we all adored, and who has featured many times on my Instagram feed.
The attack was so crazed and vicious, I think the bird was intent on actually trying to kill me. He attacked me the entire length of our lane, while I flailed and kicked and screamed blue murder, desperately trying to protect myself.
In the struggle, I eventually slipped on some mud and fell back onto my left leg and hit the ground. When I frantically tried to get up I realised the bottom half of my leg was swinging around, completely broken and disconnected from the top half of my leg and the cockerel was now angrily circling me as I lay helpless on the ground.
At that very moment both my husband and my neighbour appeared on the scene, having heard my screams. And the cockerel calmly clucked off as if nothing had happened, happily pecking at some snowdrops as he went, leaving me sitting in mud and chicken shit, in a mangled, traumatised, and excruciatingly painful mess.
At that point the school bus arrived, Betty took in the somewhat tense scene and went over to the cockerel to make sure it was OK.
Next the ambulance arrived and the paramedics gave me reassurances, and held my hand, and cut my clothes and shoes off me. The very funny paramedic kindly pointed out that the shoes were cheap so it didn't really matter.
I got through an entire cylinder of gas and air before they'd even got me into the ambulance. I went from wanting to be shot in the head to stop the pain, to cracking jokes about poultry and roast dinners.
As we pulled away in the ambulance the cockerel saw us off with several chirpy cock-a-doodle-doos, and I sobbed and laughed and swore and then passed out. There was a lot of emotion in that ambulance as we whizzed through the Herefordshire countryside.
The only thing I remember when I arrived at the hospital is one of the porters making a joke about KFC, which made me laugh, and then cry.
The next day I had a lengthy operation to straighten the leg and had metal pins inserted through my bones because it was so mashed up.
I later asked the farmer who lives next door to us to put the cockerel through a very slow and painful death. He just texted to tell me that the deed has been done and that he tasted delicious.
I am still in hospital and writing this post on my phone. I'm learning how to use crutches, drinking lots of tea, and making the most of the morphine, but am missing my children terribly.
I just hope they don't give me a hard time about ordering the execution of their beloved pet chicken...