I have sad news...this will probably be the last installment of the Chicken Chronicles for the rest of the year. I am no longer the happy owner of ANY living chickens.
The story goes like this:
I closed the birds in last night, nice and snug so I thought. Alack and alas! I went out this morning to feed my dozen feathered creatures only to find all but one of them laid about in various positions of rigor mortus. The living bird was clucking incessantly, distressed. She even let me pick her up without any fuss.
I quickly spotted the entry (and likely exit) of the evil, marauding mink . It was up high in the southwest corner. The chicken wire, which never was secured overly well in that position (from the outside it's at least four feet up) was pushed in. The overall consensus is that the nasty varmint was so irritated at being foiled in his plans to get at the birds since Wednesday that he took his revenge. (I don't know if we're the only ones, but we have gathered that mink are rather nasty creatures like that.) Only one bird had had any consumption done on it. Head and neck. That is all that these dirty mink eat--the head and neck down to the shoulders. At least coons eat drumsticks and thighs and more. It's not such a wanton "waste" of meat that way.
Daddy feels really bad about it because he had given brief thought to that upper wire and decided to do nothing. I hadn't really even given it any thought at all...but one must remember that it was cold and after 9 pm when we came in the other night. Besides, who would have thought that a mink would be so determined that he'd climb the side of the coop?? Not I. Especially when there are fat mice and voles around all over the place.
Well, anyway, I sadly hauled my dead birds off and tossed them into the field. Neither one of us felt like butchering cold stiff birds. The pitiful clucking of the remaining hen was about to make me cry so I went in. Funny thing is, I wasn't mad. I got mad the last time the mink got into them, but I think I was almost in shock this time...
Anyway, I said I didn't have any birds left in the beginning, didn't I? Well, it's true.
I was busy washing the lunch dishes when I happened to look out of the window and see...a blame mink trying to pull my LAST bird through the fencing!!!!!!!!
She was already dead. I knew that. But I started spluttering (more or less) and my heart rate went right through the roof. I dried my hands in a flash and lunged for my revolver (I keep it rather handy frequently). I didn't take time to put on a jacket and barely took the time to shove my feet into my boots.
I barreled out the door, screaming, "DADDDEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!" (He was in the shop.) "He's there!!!"
Or something to that effect. I never let up my sprint until I got to the corner of the barn where I ripped my .22 out of it's holster, just in time to hand it to Daddy, who'd come running right behind me. He had his semi-auto out. We switched guns since his was a little excessive for the skinny rat which had lifted it's head to observe us calmly. I wanted Daddy to shoot it since he's a better shot than I am, besides which I was shaking so bad that I wasn't sure I would have been able to control my breathing well enough for a good shot placement. However, if Daddy hadn't come up when he had, that dirty animal would have found himself staring down a .22 barrel held by a very irate female...
As it is, at least one of Daddy's two shots hit him (I didn't exactly see it because I had stepped away...my .22 is pretty loud and I had no earplugs in). Daddy and I re-exchanged guns again and Daddy told me to go around to the back of the barn. The mink had gone inside (there are tunnels under the barn walls into the back portion of the barn. We had a rabbit die in there last year...but that's another story.)
Anyway to shorten this story, we discovered that the mink (or minks) have been living in the barn this whole time. We found the nest and burrowings...but no mink, dead or alive. However, we did smell the musk. That dirty rat was probably cowered underneath something within pistol range the whole time. Anyway, I hope that a stench arises back there very soon. Still, I may go "hunting" once a day for a while after this...as is, we placed one of the snap traps in what appears to be the main entrance and then I brazenly put the live trap directly in front of it. I would take a great deal of satisfaction in drilling a mink after this...
And that, my friends, is how I am now no longer head dominionist over a flock of fluff brained birds. I think I'll rather miss the silly things. Yup...there went the egg bill back up a notch or two again...
The story goes like this:
I closed the birds in last night, nice and snug so I thought. Alack and alas! I went out this morning to feed my dozen feathered creatures only to find all but one of them laid about in various positions of rigor mortus. The living bird was clucking incessantly, distressed. She even let me pick her up without any fuss.
I quickly spotted the entry (and likely exit) of the evil, marauding mink . It was up high in the southwest corner. The chicken wire, which never was secured overly well in that position (from the outside it's at least four feet up) was pushed in. The overall consensus is that the nasty varmint was so irritated at being foiled in his plans to get at the birds since Wednesday that he took his revenge. (I don't know if we're the only ones, but we have gathered that mink are rather nasty creatures like that.) Only one bird had had any consumption done on it. Head and neck. That is all that these dirty mink eat--the head and neck down to the shoulders. At least coons eat drumsticks and thighs and more. It's not such a wanton "waste" of meat that way.
Daddy feels really bad about it because he had given brief thought to that upper wire and decided to do nothing. I hadn't really even given it any thought at all...but one must remember that it was cold and after 9 pm when we came in the other night. Besides, who would have thought that a mink would be so determined that he'd climb the side of the coop?? Not I. Especially when there are fat mice and voles around all over the place.
Well, anyway, I sadly hauled my dead birds off and tossed them into the field. Neither one of us felt like butchering cold stiff birds. The pitiful clucking of the remaining hen was about to make me cry so I went in. Funny thing is, I wasn't mad. I got mad the last time the mink got into them, but I think I was almost in shock this time...
Anyway, I said I didn't have any birds left in the beginning, didn't I? Well, it's true.
I was busy washing the lunch dishes when I happened to look out of the window and see...a blame mink trying to pull my LAST bird through the fencing!!!!!!!!
She was already dead. I knew that. But I started spluttering (more or less) and my heart rate went right through the roof. I dried my hands in a flash and lunged for my revolver (I keep it rather handy frequently). I didn't take time to put on a jacket and barely took the time to shove my feet into my boots.
I barreled out the door, screaming, "DADDDEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!" (He was in the shop.) "He's there!!!"
Or something to that effect. I never let up my sprint until I got to the corner of the barn where I ripped my .22 out of it's holster, just in time to hand it to Daddy, who'd come running right behind me. He had his semi-auto out. We switched guns since his was a little excessive for the skinny rat which had lifted it's head to observe us calmly. I wanted Daddy to shoot it since he's a better shot than I am, besides which I was shaking so bad that I wasn't sure I would have been able to control my breathing well enough for a good shot placement. However, if Daddy hadn't come up when he had, that dirty animal would have found himself staring down a .22 barrel held by a very irate female...
As it is, at least one of Daddy's two shots hit him (I didn't exactly see it because I had stepped away...my .22 is pretty loud and I had no earplugs in). Daddy and I re-exchanged guns again and Daddy told me to go around to the back of the barn. The mink had gone inside (there are tunnels under the barn walls into the back portion of the barn. We had a rabbit die in there last year...but that's another story.)
Anyway to shorten this story, we discovered that the mink (or minks) have been living in the barn this whole time. We found the nest and burrowings...but no mink, dead or alive. However, we did smell the musk. That dirty rat was probably cowered underneath something within pistol range the whole time. Anyway, I hope that a stench arises back there very soon. Still, I may go "hunting" once a day for a while after this...as is, we placed one of the snap traps in what appears to be the main entrance and then I brazenly put the live trap directly in front of it. I would take a great deal of satisfaction in drilling a mink after this...
And that, my friends, is how I am now no longer head dominionist over a flock of fluff brained birds. I think I'll rather miss the silly things. Yup...there went the egg bill back up a notch or two again...
RSS Feed
