When I woke up this morning there were feathers everywhere. I was pretty sure the fox had been in the hen house. Upon closer examination I found a slit in my summer-weight down blanket. I think Webster must have gotten hot in the night and when he jumped off the bed, one of his nails must have gotten caught. I was sound asleep in my food coma after a day of Easter treats yesterday.
When I went back with the vacuum cleaner the culprit had claimed my space and was oblivious to anything out of the ordinary.