Go Ahead. Just Rip My Heart Out

Hate is a very ugly word and if the Dalai Lama can give me a better word to describe this feeling I have, I will use it.  In the meantime, I hate coyotes.

This evening I lost three hens, not including Karen earlier in the week.  And what about Dumpling's injuries which led to her death a few weeks back?  In my deepest of prayers, I ask that two of those hens are up in a tree somewhere and will be back tomorrow.  The fate of the third is certain.

After a very stimulating three hour dance workshop followed by a well deserved enjoyable early dinner with my friend Kim and then a quick stop and try on of many at the essential oils section of Whole Foods, I made my way back home.  As I pulled in the driveway, Red and Honey were coming toward me.  I did think it a bit strange that they would be headed in my direction at 7:45pm but then again, the days are getting longer, so I passed it off as that.

I came in the house to change and then head out to do my evening chores.  It was still plenty light out.  As I came to the hay shed, Honey was perched up on a board and settled in as if to sleep there.  Strange.  And I passed that off as wondering if she was not feeling well again.  I scooped her up and brought her home and as we approached the hen house, she squawked and squirmed.  Why were there only five hens in the house?  Red wasn't there so I passed that off as him being out escorting the last few girls back home.

From out in the dry lot, I heard a rumpus from my neighbor's hen house.  Could have just been the hens settling down for the night except that both Bodie and Pinkie were keying in on something in the air and they were both at the fence on alert.  I called Aaron to ask if his hens were locked in and he told me more or less but that they have lost a few over the past weeks.  Just as he said that, I saw two coyote walking toward his hen house.  In my strongest voice possible that could carry over the rushing canal, I yipped for them to move along.  Aaron was out of town fighting fires being set by a pesky arsonist up in Montana but when he comes back tomorrow, he will set out with his bow and arrow with the intention of taking out a coyote or two.

Hanging up from Aaron, I turned around to notice Red sitting up on the rail of the tack room.  The previous hints of something amiss were passed off, but this was too strange.  I walked him back to the hen house, counted my hens again, closed up the door and started looking around.

I found black and white feathers of one of my Barred Rock hens on both sides of the fence by the hen house.  On the other side, there was a significant pile of them that told me the hen was snatched near the fence on my side, carried over and disposed of on the other side.

The sun was setting and seeing clearly through my tears was becoming a challenge.  I couldn't find any other feathers nearby.  But who was it?  It was either Baby or Alice, my two oldest girls, or Precious, one of my first year babies.

It still leaves two hens unaccounted for, not forgetting Karen.  They would be another one of the Barred Rock hens and either Cat or Helen, one of my Rhode Island Reds.  The hens in the house were tucked in and under so I couldn't tell which one of those were in the house and who was missing.

It is always heart breaking to lose an animal; goodness knows I've said that before.  But to come home and find three of your hens gone, it just rips your heart straight from its safe place behind the ribcage and dangles it out as coyote bait.

Can a Rooster Count?

One of my baby hens, Honey, is in my chicken special care unit for tonight.  With much hope she will pass the remainder of a bound egg.  My special care unit is so flexible, it changes names depending on which animal is in there.  But, to my point.

In the early evening, I walked down to the hen house to collect any pearls the girls may have left for me.  Two.  The other 10 hens were inside their high rise, settling in at dusk, but Red was pacing outside.  He was looking around, under the big juniper and back out again.  I believe he was looking for Honey.

Red is one very gentle, respectful Rooster.  He is loyally protective of his girls.  He tries to mount them every now and again and if they scoot out from under him, he just goes around in a circle almost a little embarrassed that he even tried.  So, here it was, time to head in to safety for the night and one of his hens was missing.

In my best gallo speak, I explained that she was with me and assured him I was looking after her for the night.  I hope he understood me.  The last thing I would want is for Red to think he lost a hen on his watch.

Sweet dreams, Red.

My Dogs Aren't Just Cute

I may have mentioned our rogue rooster before. If he isn't careful, there may not be much more to mention about him!

This pesky rooster just goes out of his way to find me and attack me. Yes, I have tried all the things people say to do to let him know who's boss, but he just doesn't buy it. My left shin has what seems might be a permanent reminder of one of his attacks.

This afternoon I went in the hen pen to feed and only Baby was there. Not unusual, she usually stays close to home while the others are off on any part of the ranch at any given moment. We had our little chat, she said thank you and out I went.

I was outside the hen house collecting eggs and out of nowhere Peep Peep comes charging at my legs! I caught the flash of his tailless body as he lunged forward and I was able to get my foot out to push him back. As I was grabbing the broom--he is relentless--I was yelling, "Bodie!"

In no time did my caped Mini Australian Shepherd come running around the hen pen, he looked up at me to get the okay and he went to work. Bodie is a herding dog. Peep Peep got herd.

Because this has happened, oh I don't know how many times before, we've got a routine. Bodie runs him around for a bit then looks back at me for the signal to come back-- or no signal.

I mean, how comforting is that to know that I can call out for my dog and he will come running ready for whatever job is awaiting him?!

Now Pinkie, she's more of a chewer than a chaser. She now understands that the ducks and hens are not part of her free-choice plate, but I always keep a close eye on her as she tends to crouch and stalk.

Two days ago I was again at the hen pen and Peep Peep comes after me (this time he hit me hard but I had on my tall boots, just a little ouch.) I called out, "Bodie!" Pinkie was just beside me and from the distress in my voice, she knew her momma needed help.

I wasn't quite sure how it was going to turn out for Peep Peep but my girl had learned the lesson well. She immediately darted toward him and had him running--faster than Bodie makes him run. When I called her off, she came back to me right away just as Bodie was keying in on the rooster from the other side.

Honestly, I have never felt so protected and loved as by these dogs. Larry keeps telling me, "They'll never let anyone near you" but what do I know about those things. He's right.

My superhero and supershero watch me like a hawk (bad analogy around here) and they want nothing more than to make me happy and keep me safe and sound. And let's face it, that cookie they get when we go back in the house isn't that bad either.