Fox!
He continues to strike. He had a good old rumpus out there this evening. We have been holding our own with the chickens, the problems seem to be corrected although I don't have the coop on wheels yet! But this fox, man you can tell why this is one of the oldest stories in the long tale of man vs beast.
Ever read a short story called "Leiningen Versus The Ants"? For me it is the classic story of man vs. nature. I read it in high school can not really tell you the in's and out's of the story but it always comes to mind when I ponder squaring off with a "pest". The problem, of course, is that these critters are so damn smart, and cautious. I think that the brazen nature of this creature will lead, eventually, to his downfall. (I have watched him urinate and this is how I know it is a "he".) He is becoming more and more brazen here on the farm.
His visits are always after the farm has settled down from chores. I am pretty sure he listens to the sheep blatting all over the place while we feed and water everyone at chore time. Then we all go in to make supper and eat... stories... bed, etc. He slips in behind the barn, digs in some compost, grabs a loose chicken... whatever suits him.
I maintain lavish daydreams of out "foxing" him. I ponder camo, face paint, long silent stake outs with gun at the ready. I become Bill Murray as he plots the destruction of the gopher in Caddyshack.
So if you see me making small chickens out of plastic explosives you know what I am up to. The funny thing is that I have taken two shots at this critter (with the wrong gun but, as Donald Rumsfeld once said , "You go to war with the army you have") and have missed badly because all my rage at his pesky raids and their consequences pump away as I hyperventilate at having him in my sites at last. Maybe if I were a hunter I would have a clue how to manage the adrenaline and calmly defend my flock.
It forces that realization that he and I can not share this little peninsula, not as long as he is smarter than I am. Free range and foxes don't mix...
Ever read a short story called "Leiningen Versus The Ants"? For me it is the classic story of man vs. nature. I read it in high school can not really tell you the in's and out's of the story but it always comes to mind when I ponder squaring off with a "pest". The problem, of course, is that these critters are so damn smart, and cautious. I think that the brazen nature of this creature will lead, eventually, to his downfall. (I have watched him urinate and this is how I know it is a "he".) He is becoming more and more brazen here on the farm.
His visits are always after the farm has settled down from chores. I am pretty sure he listens to the sheep blatting all over the place while we feed and water everyone at chore time. Then we all go in to make supper and eat... stories... bed, etc. He slips in behind the barn, digs in some compost, grabs a loose chicken... whatever suits him.
I maintain lavish daydreams of out "foxing" him. I ponder camo, face paint, long silent stake outs with gun at the ready. I become Bill Murray as he plots the destruction of the gopher in Caddyshack.
So if you see me making small chickens out of plastic explosives you know what I am up to. The funny thing is that I have taken two shots at this critter (with the wrong gun but, as Donald Rumsfeld once said , "You go to war with the army you have") and have missed badly because all my rage at his pesky raids and their consequences pump away as I hyperventilate at having him in my sites at last. Maybe if I were a hunter I would have a clue how to manage the adrenaline and calmly defend my flock.
It forces that realization that he and I can not share this little peninsula, not as long as he is smarter than I am. Free range and foxes don't mix...