I am quite pleased to announce that the terrible chicken eating "Houdini" met his fateful end this morning.
When I was headed to the barn to feed the cats, I craned my neck up and looked over the tall grass as best I could toward the chicken coop and trap. I saw movement that was most definitely not chicken movement. I put out the cat food then looked a little harder. Sure enough, this coon was in the trap. I whooped out a "Yippee!" and headed back for the house.
After straping on my gun, I grabbed the chicken feed and quickly went out. As I neared him, "Houdini" started hissing at me. Nice coonie...
I pulled the trap away from the coop a little bit and walked around trying to figure out the best angle. Finally, I settled on the head on (towards the trap) angle. Houdini was backed into a corner and making unsettling noises at me while sitting on top of a pile of by-now stinky chicken corpses I had baited the trap with.
I slipped my revolver out of the holster and squinted down the barrel. With the sights about smack dab between his nasty little eyes, I squeezed off the shot. He flipped upside down and started thrashing.
Satisfied, I holstered my pistol and proceeded to feed the chickens.
I'm guessing he weighed at least 20 chicken fed pounds...but he could have been more like 25. You know, raccoons are really not as cute as people think they are...
When I was headed to the barn to feed the cats, I craned my neck up and looked over the tall grass as best I could toward the chicken coop and trap. I saw movement that was most definitely not chicken movement. I put out the cat food then looked a little harder. Sure enough, this coon was in the trap. I whooped out a "Yippee!" and headed back for the house.
After straping on my gun, I grabbed the chicken feed and quickly went out. As I neared him, "Houdini" started hissing at me. Nice coonie...
I pulled the trap away from the coop a little bit and walked around trying to figure out the best angle. Finally, I settled on the head on (towards the trap) angle. Houdini was backed into a corner and making unsettling noises at me while sitting on top of a pile of by-now stinky chicken corpses I had baited the trap with.
I slipped my revolver out of the holster and squinted down the barrel. With the sights about smack dab between his nasty little eyes, I squeezed off the shot. He flipped upside down and started thrashing.
Satisfied, I holstered my pistol and proceeded to feed the chickens.
I'm guessing he weighed at least 20 chicken fed pounds...but he could have been more like 25. You know, raccoons are really not as cute as people think they are...
Trophy pictures are kind of fun to compose...
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