Black Friday

Today when Peaches and I got home, there was a pack of dogs killing our chickens. It was not a pack of wild dogs; they were well fed, muscular, had glossy coats and they were wearing collars. Someone around here lets their dogs run loose.

We chased the dogs away. They'd dug under the fence and gotten into the yard. The chicken door is just big enough that a pit bull terrier can get through.

One silver-laced wyandotte and all three barred rocks were dead. Black Lucy the elder was wounded so badly that she wasn't going to live. We killed her quickly so that she wouldn't suffer.

One silver-laced wyandotte is wounded and acts as though she's sprained her left leg. I gave her some water and she perked up, but all the birds are obviously feeling shaken. Tomorrow, I'll assess her again. I hope that some rest will let her recover.

Tomorrow, I'm digging a ditch and pouring concrete.

A Black Day

The Pirate got out of bed yesterday and went downstairs to let the chickens out, as per usual. He came back upstairs looking drawn and distressed, and when I asked him about it, he started to tear up.

"We lost a chicken."

It turns out that the poor Pirate, in a bid to sleep in for once, had left the door to the chicken yard open overnight, and a racoon had gotten in and messily devoured one of the Myras. It breaks my heart because the poor thing had to be terrified, along with the rest of her coopmates who weren't eaten.

Let me just say, it's not as though we haven't left the coop door open before. We've gone on quite a few trips where we were away for the weekend and just left the coop door open, and we never lost so much as an egg. I don't know when the racoons discovered our flock, but now's the time our coop design will truly be tested.

When we built our coop, we put in as many racoon-resistant features as we could. The floors are made of slats 1" apart to let air in and poop out, but too close together to let either rats or racoons in. The frames holding the slats are so heavy that it requires either one Pirate or two girls to lift it - there's no way a racoon could lift it. The walls are all a double layer of plywoods, as much to insulate as to keep out predators, and the windows are 1/4" plexiglas held on with wingnuts on the inside. Every opening has a door with a lock, and at night, the locks are normally locked up.

What I've heard is not just that racoons are smart, but that they're also persistent. They will come back for quite a while, testing different parts of your structure until they've either satisfied themselves that they can't breech it or until they've found some easier source of food.

I feel angry at myself. The Pirate didn't ask me to get up and let the chickens out because I had been feeling a little under the weather, but my malaise was only stress. We've both decided that regardless of how we feel, being good stewards of our flock is the most important thing.

The Cat's Tale

Over the holiday, BabyGoddess wrote a book for her mommy. "The Bat, The Cat, and The Hat" is a tale of love, a bat for a cat (who does not seem to return the feeling) and between the cat and his mommy. She gives this book to us as comfort. It's very sweet.

However, our cats have not been let in on the secret that bats love cats. Or maybe, like the cat in the story, they aren't so interested in how the bat feels. Tonight at bedtime I was urging the BabyGoddess to pick up her clothes and...hey, what's that thing on the floor there? Oh. Never mind, it's a dead bat the cats have brought us.



I've been at home, bedridden, all day. The cats spent the day curled up on me. And in the evening they brought me a little dinner. That's very sweet. But, seriously. Ew.

Good kitty.