This is why you go in the coop every night:
I woke up at 4:30 am (we all did) to chicken noises, then a strangled cry. I took a flashlight into the backyard to investigate, and surprised a pair of raccoons. One ran over the fence and disappeared; the other was still in the tree looking for the other chicken—who fortunately flew into the other holly tree instead of landing on the ground, as the other apparently had. There wasn't much I could do at that point, so I went back inside and waited for dawn.
When it was light I went back into the yard; that's when I saw the trail of feathers, and what was left of Greta the chicken. Gamma Ray, the other Lakenvelder, was still in the holly tree, sitting tight. I opened the coop and let everybody out. They knew something had happened. They stood in a group in the middle of the yard and let out a chorus of distress calls, which they kept up for some time.
When I got home from work Greg already had them corralled in their coop. I went to check on them, and they seemed mighty glad to be in there. Even the ducks, who usually only reluctantly go into their coop at night.
We'll all have to be extra vigilant until the raccoons give up and move on. Even the cats! (The ducks were making a ruckus about something this afternoon and Gina had to dash out the back door and look in on them; all was well, so she came back inside!)
Sometimes it's a hard world for the small things.