Actually, I wish this were at at-home day for me, but i'tisn't. Big, fluffy flakes have started falling, the ground is beginning to turn white, and it's super grey out. A cozy day to be at home. And, maybe that's why I'm still sitting here in the kitchen rocker instead of getting on with it!
So, when I stopped at the post office yesterday (the little burg at the intersection of the highway has a post office, a church, a town hall, and a small general store . . . the latter a very recent addition), I learned that there's another predator around who could, certainly, have added to my recent poultry loss: a black panther! Technically, it would be a melanistic cougar, but to say 'black panther' sounds way more impressive, doesn't it?
I saw it last year (nowhere near Swamp River Ridge but still well within the confines of its range - anywhere from 10 to 293 square miles), and then someone saw it yesterday morning. As the post mistress said, "People are gonna start losing their pets, left and right!" Not that I'd love for it to be hunting around here, but it sure would be neat to get a GOOD look at one! The sighting I had was at night, and the cat was a ways in front of me as it crossed the road. Still, there's no mistaking that long tail nearly scraping the ground.
I won't go into all the details, but I had one hell of an UP and DOWN and UP day yesterday. The first "UP" was just feeling so much better, physically, and getting back to "hitting it" in my office. Then, the first seconds of a voicemail I was able to collect (once I got w/in range) tripled my happiness: "Chicken Mama? Good news! I just heard from the investment company, and the divorce settlement money has made it into your account." THANK GAWD!
But, the "DOWN" was in his next breath. "Now, it will have to sit in that account for 6 business days in escrow before we can submit the paperwork for your first withdrawal." Ummm, WHAT? No, excuse me, I mean to say, "W.T.F?!!!"
I was FURIOUS. Seething. Shaking. On one hand, I can count the number of times in my life that I have been that angry. Unfortunately, I was driving up my folks' driveway at the time I got the message, and so dear Papa Pea got the unbridled, f-en-hymers flying, venting rage I was experiencing . . . full force!
Mind you, this . . . person . . . had told me, verbatim, that it would take "7-10 days from the time I have the divorce paperwork in my hands to you seeing the money in your checking account". Well, he had the paperwork in his hands on October 11th. In case you hadn't noticed, yesterday was November 12th. Beyond that 20-day discrepancy that had already passed, I cannot believe that he, as a long-time financial advisor, did not realize that the money would have to sit in escrow for a period of time. Did he mention this to me? Ahhh, no. I IMMEDIATELY contacted my lawyer, and I do have some options, so that is something.
Fortunately (!), the day did end on an "UP". A financial angel, who insisted that their identity remain anonymous, loaned me the money to pay the overdue property taxes, the overdue mortgage, and my overdue office rent. Holy thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!
And, double bonus, when I stopped at the convenience store as I left town, I found (drumroll, please) that THE EGGNOG HAS ARRIVED! I immediately scooped up three quarts and back-tracked to deliver one to My Girl who was having a poopy day but LUVS eggnog (her response, "Eggnog???? I LOVE YOU!!") and the other to Papa Pea who is the biggest eggnog fiend you will ever find! Ironically, Dad said that he had just told Mom, "The eggnog will be coming out soon, but PLEASE don't buy any until Thanksgiving!" - hoping to keep his belt size the same. So, I immediately swooped it up and offered to take it away . . . but a slight wrestling match ensued with Dad's insistence that it would just be darn rude for him to refuse such a loving gift from his only child. ;)
Showing posts with label Predators. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Predators. Show all posts
Checking In
I'm sitting in the sunroom tonight, trying to get a pathetic little fire going in the stove. The fire gods seem to be against me. For those of you who use wood stoves regularly, you know how there's a RIGHT way to start a fire as well as a WRONG way? And, yes, sometimes the wrong way actually works. Most of the time, though, it doesn't. You cut some corners: you didn't use enough paper or birchbark or there's not enough kindling. Or the only logs in the woodbox are too big but you don't want to go out to the woodshed to get more. You know the drill. Anyway, that's the point I'm at with this particular fire. I didn't have the energy to build it properly and, so, it is faltering. And I'm blaming low pressure. Or the stupid stove. Or the fact that it's a Wednesday. Certainly not myself.
I've been trying to write the necessary post ever since it all happened on Monday, but I'm just not having any luck. I don't have the will to rehash the whole story right now. But, in brief, for those of you who haven't already found out from Mama Pea's blog or Facebook, I lost Annie Blue (the little cat I'd picked out when she was just 4 weeks old) Monday morning. A big-@ss fisher took her, right in front of me. He had just torn out her throat when I got out the door and fired. There was nothing to do for Annie Blue other than hold her and sob over and over and over, "I'm sorry! Oh, Annie Blue, I'm sorry!"
The irony of it all is that I think I now know what the predator's been this whole time (helped out by an eagle a time or two): this big fisher. (Some call them fisher cats.) That is part of what I want to write about in length some time . . . just not right now.
That and saying goodbye to Annie Blue, burying her, and planting a tree over her grave. But I just don't have it in me at the moment.
To add insult to injury, I got sick last night with what I'm guessing is the 24-hour flu. At first, I thought it was the accumulated stress finally exacting its revenge on my body, but now I know it's more.
After spending an extra hour at my office last night . . . and then another, just 1.5 miles down the road, at my folks' (all on the toilet, thank you very much), I had an excruciatingly miserable hour drive home - inclusive of a visit to Mother Nature's lavatory (thank gawd for dirt roads and no traffic) - followed by a long, painful night of limited sleep. This morning I ate the only banana in the house, a soggy old thing, and that settled properly on my stomach, amazingly enough. The yogurt I tried this afternoon did not. I should have skipped the small bitefuls of rice noodles tonight, too, and stuck to only the two pieces of toast I just had. The 24-hour mark should be cleared any minute, though, and I can't tell you how much I'm counting on that! (I'm not willing to accept that this could be a more-than-just-a-single-day bug.)
Now, the upstairs couch, my heating pad, and a movie are just what this doctor's ordering.
I've been trying to write the necessary post ever since it all happened on Monday, but I'm just not having any luck. I don't have the will to rehash the whole story right now. But, in brief, for those of you who haven't already found out from Mama Pea's blog or Facebook, I lost Annie Blue (the little cat I'd picked out when she was just 4 weeks old) Monday morning. A big-@ss fisher took her, right in front of me. He had just torn out her throat when I got out the door and fired. There was nothing to do for Annie Blue other than hold her and sob over and over and over, "I'm sorry! Oh, Annie Blue, I'm sorry!"
The irony of it all is that I think I now know what the predator's been this whole time (helped out by an eagle a time or two): this big fisher. (Some call them fisher cats.) That is part of what I want to write about in length some time . . . just not right now.
That and saying goodbye to Annie Blue, burying her, and planting a tree over her grave. But I just don't have it in me at the moment.
To add insult to injury, I got sick last night with what I'm guessing is the 24-hour flu. At first, I thought it was the accumulated stress finally exacting its revenge on my body, but now I know it's more.
After spending an extra hour at my office last night . . . and then another, just 1.5 miles down the road, at my folks' (all on the toilet, thank you very much), I had an excruciatingly miserable hour drive home - inclusive of a visit to Mother Nature's lavatory (thank gawd for dirt roads and no traffic) - followed by a long, painful night of limited sleep. This morning I ate the only banana in the house, a soggy old thing, and that settled properly on my stomach, amazingly enough. The yogurt I tried this afternoon did not. I should have skipped the small bitefuls of rice noodles tonight, too, and stuck to only the two pieces of toast I just had. The 24-hour mark should be cleared any minute, though, and I can't tell you how much I'm counting on that! (I'm not willing to accept that this could be a more-than-just-a-single-day bug.)
Now, the upstairs couch, my heating pad, and a movie are just what this doctor's ordering.
It's a Mystery
My jaw is . . . agape. And I don't mean the 'type of love' kind of agape.
My brain is . . . agog.
I am a . . . mazed.
Bothered, bewitched, bewildered.
In-flipping-sane.
Un-plucking-believable.
I'm home. In from chores. And, A-N-O-T-H-E-R goose is gone. Not the smallest (my Toulouse goose, Tallulah). No, one of the big American Buffs. Gone. Poof!
I'm nearly speechless.
This morning, when I let them out, there were 4. Tonight, when I herded them inside, there were 3.
The dogs were DEFINITELY on the trail of something just off the driveway, so, with flashlight in hand, we went exploring . . . but there was no sign of ANYthing. No scat, no feathers, no nothin'.
I'd set the trail camera up on the driveway, hoping to get some critter loping up or down it, but the image count was only at 2 . . . registering the two times we had just walked by it while searching for clues.
I'll set it up in the poultry yard tomorrow. Even if I have to wade through 339 pictures of the geese (since it's motion-activated), hopefully I'll get a shot of the predator. And, if not tomorrow, then the next day.
I tell you, though, I feel like I'm losing my mind! Did I close the gate? Yes (and yes to each of the times I went back to check)! Is there a starving hobo living nearby? Maybe it's a hungry Yeti?
There's no four-legged critter I can think of that could climb the fence, grab a big goose, and then climb back over and out. Any two-legged critter coming in (I'm not saying I believe in Sasquatch, but, hey, we're grasping at straws here) would spook the geese enough while trying to nab one that they would probably be scared when I entered the yard. So, that leaves a winged predator. A really big-@ss winged predator. (Or a really smart four-legged that lets itself in and out through the gate.)
The thing that still holds me back about the whole eagle idea, though, is that I don't see them around here a lot. At least, not in the mornings when I'm out and about doing chores. 'Course, there were two circling on Saturday when Tom was out to work on the roof. Maybe I'm not seeing them because I'm gone during the day when they're hunting. And, I did just find this online: "most eagle-caused flushes of geese occurred during mid-day". So, there ya go.
Too, there's this story from a couple of years ago:
We'd gotten a road-kill deer - a small buck. The head was in fine shape with small antlers, and so Tom put it aside for us to either set out (somewhere safe) to dry in the sun or to boil it down. (I think I was going to boil it down, if memory serves.) Anyway, it was sitting on a bench outside the garage in a plastic Target bag (too high for the dogs to get to). And, it was heavy. I mean, a whole deer head WITH small antlers.
After it had been sitting there for a couple of days (it was cold out), I went to fetch it to boil (I remember now). It was a sunny day, and so I'd set a single electric burner out on the deck (I sure didn't want that smell in the house!). I went to get the deer head, but it was gone.
I came inside and asked Tom, "Where'd you put the deer head?"
He said, "I didn't do anything with it. You moved it."
Huhhhm?
Well, turns out that, within the previous 24 hours, it had gone missing and we'd both assumed the other had moved it. Once we cleared that up, we went looking for it. 'Cause, c'mon, it was HEAVY . . . it couldn't have gone very far.
Across the yard from the garage, caught in some scrub Moose Maple, I found the Target bag. Empty. Meanwhile, Tom came back holding something.
"Uhhh, I didn't find the deer head, but I DID find this."
And he presented me with an old, well-chewed and quite heavy deer backbone fully attached to its ribs.
(Queue the spooky music, "Oooo-OOOO-oooooh!")
So. While we never did find that deer head, our fanciful (or maybe NOT so fanciful?) theory was that an eagle had been flying overhead with the ribcage / spine in its talons. It looked down over Swamp River Ridge and spied the Target bag. It thought to itself, "Hmmm, I wonder what's in that plastic bag?" It swooped down, ripped the bag off the deer head (the bag did have long, sharp cuts in it), and . . . exchanging what it had in its grasp for the better treat that had been "behind Door #3", dropped the old ribcage and flew off with the heavy (and meat-rich) head instead.
Makes you think, don' it?
What's YOUR theory?
The Bewitching Hour
Good morning! I'm in a particularly good mood this day. Dunno why, particularly since I lost a GOOSE yesterday!
How much weight can an eagle carry? Well, apparently the weight of a full-grown goose. Un-freakin'-believable. I looked online, and there are videos of eagles going after small mountain goats, wolves, foxes, and fawns. At a dead stop, they can carry only about half their weight, but, if the wind is right and the prey is on an open hillside . . . they can swoop away with MUCH more. (How big does this "open hillside" need to be? Again, apparently my poultry yard - at 60' x 60' and on a bit of a hill - qualifies.) Mama & Papa Pea are butchering today, and I was going to bring in two of these geese, but now? Forget it. I need to hang on to what I can. And, unless I get just of couple of chickens which will remain INSIDE the chicken house this winter, Chicken Mama ain't getting any more poultry until the (poultry) yard goes through a SEVERE remodel.
The ex and I spent a full day together yesterday, our first since the divorce was finalized. (Our trips to Duluth to meet with lawyers in the midst of it all don't qualify as 'enjoyable' days, I don't think!) He came out to do loads of roof work - dangerous roof work. In the past when he'd worked on the roof (after falling off it and really banging himself up that once), he'd always worn his climbing gear and was roped off, but it was neat watching him do the same yesterday - except in a MUCH more comprehensive manner. It's amazing what one learns climbing Denali! ;) Point being, it was nice to watch him doing the work in a much more . . . what's the word . . . competent . . . fashion. Cheers to him!
Some of you may remember that, the same day Tom was moving out back in January, we discovered that the roof portion of the Kalamazoo chimney (the stove in the middle room of the house) was G-O-N-E. A BIG, wet snow load had taken it right off the roof, and the snow was so deep at the side of the house there that the heavy chimney had buried itself when it fell. Both of us wiping away tears, we'd put a temporary patch over the hole. For obvious reasons, I had bigger concerns that spring but, as the temps began to drop this fall, I knew I wanted the repair work done. And, now it is! Tom replaced and trussed the chimney up with two supports that are screwed through the insulated roof and into the beams of the timberframe house below. NOW if the chimney goes, it's takin' the entire roof with it! ;)
That same snow melt last winter also ripped out two of the four screws holding the Yagi (phone) antennae in place, causing in to point right down into the roof. I'm actually amazed that I kept receiving a signal! That, too, was repaired in the same fashion (super duper long screws that are over a foot in length), and I should be good to go!
Then, we got the rechargeable battery replaced in the rooftop weather station and, finally, Tom reconnected a portion of the 2nd story zinc gutter downspout and screwed that in place. It was a full day of much-needed work done, and I'm ever so appreciative!
Oh, and what did I do all day? I was the go-fer. And ladder holder. Until we realized he'd be up there for HOURS. Then, when I was inside vacuuming once during a length of time when Tom wouldn't be needing anything, I heard a massive crash. Oops: a wind gust had gotten the h-e-a-v-y ladder, and DOWN it went! Amazingly, it didn't take out any windows on the way down nor even seem to damage the deck railing it landed on. Lucky, lucky! So, the ladder stayed down until Tom was ready to descend after hours in the cold, biting wind. (At least it was a sunny, sunny day.) I was exhausted last night, and I didn't "do" anything! I can't imagine how HE felt!
Then, the ex and I went to Bundle of Joy's house for dinner. My folks and I had long-standing plans to be there last night, but Mama Pea's fighting a bit of a bug, and she didn't want to subject Bundle of Joy to it . . . nor have to restrict her baby-time because of it! But, when Bundle of Joy's mama and daddy heard that Tom was going to be here for the day, they insisted that he and I both come for supper. And, believe me, that food tasted GOOD after a hard day's work! It was a lovely end to the day, and both Tom and I are SO glad that we can still enjoy each other's company . . . AND the company of friends . . . when we're together. Despite a little bit of ugliness during the course of the divorce, one can hardly ask for more.
Because I was here at home yesterday, a normal in-office day for me, I'll spend some time in town today, both helping my folks with their butchering and getting some work done. That AND welcoming a couple of my most favorite little trick-or-treaters when they stop in at the office. :)
What are YOUR plans for Halloween? BOO!
How much weight can an eagle carry? Well, apparently the weight of a full-grown goose. Un-freakin'-believable. I looked online, and there are videos of eagles going after small mountain goats, wolves, foxes, and fawns. At a dead stop, they can carry only about half their weight, but, if the wind is right and the prey is on an open hillside . . . they can swoop away with MUCH more. (How big does this "open hillside" need to be? Again, apparently my poultry yard - at 60' x 60' and on a bit of a hill - qualifies.) Mama & Papa Pea are butchering today, and I was going to bring in two of these geese, but now? Forget it. I need to hang on to what I can. And, unless I get just of couple of chickens which will remain INSIDE the chicken house this winter, Chicken Mama ain't getting any more poultry until the (poultry) yard goes through a SEVERE remodel.
The ex and I spent a full day together yesterday, our first since the divorce was finalized. (Our trips to Duluth to meet with lawyers in the midst of it all don't qualify as 'enjoyable' days, I don't think!) He came out to do loads of roof work - dangerous roof work. In the past when he'd worked on the roof (after falling off it and really banging himself up that once), he'd always worn his climbing gear and was roped off, but it was neat watching him do the same yesterday - except in a MUCH more comprehensive manner. It's amazing what one learns climbing Denali! ;) Point being, it was nice to watch him doing the work in a much more . . . what's the word . . . competent . . . fashion. Cheers to him!
Some of you may remember that, the same day Tom was moving out back in January, we discovered that the roof portion of the Kalamazoo chimney (the stove in the middle room of the house) was G-O-N-E. A BIG, wet snow load had taken it right off the roof, and the snow was so deep at the side of the house there that the heavy chimney had buried itself when it fell. Both of us wiping away tears, we'd put a temporary patch over the hole. For obvious reasons, I had bigger concerns that spring but, as the temps began to drop this fall, I knew I wanted the repair work done. And, now it is! Tom replaced and trussed the chimney up with two supports that are screwed through the insulated roof and into the beams of the timberframe house below. NOW if the chimney goes, it's takin' the entire roof with it! ;)
That same snow melt last winter also ripped out two of the four screws holding the Yagi (phone) antennae in place, causing in to point right down into the roof. I'm actually amazed that I kept receiving a signal! That, too, was repaired in the same fashion (super duper long screws that are over a foot in length), and I should be good to go!
Then, we got the rechargeable battery replaced in the rooftop weather station and, finally, Tom reconnected a portion of the 2nd story zinc gutter downspout and screwed that in place. It was a full day of much-needed work done, and I'm ever so appreciative!
Oh, and what did I do all day? I was the go-fer. And ladder holder. Until we realized he'd be up there for HOURS. Then, when I was inside vacuuming once during a length of time when Tom wouldn't be needing anything, I heard a massive crash. Oops: a wind gust had gotten the h-e-a-v-y ladder, and DOWN it went! Amazingly, it didn't take out any windows on the way down nor even seem to damage the deck railing it landed on. Lucky, lucky! So, the ladder stayed down until Tom was ready to descend after hours in the cold, biting wind. (At least it was a sunny, sunny day.) I was exhausted last night, and I didn't "do" anything! I can't imagine how HE felt!
Then, the ex and I went to Bundle of Joy's house for dinner. My folks and I had long-standing plans to be there last night, but Mama Pea's fighting a bit of a bug, and she didn't want to subject Bundle of Joy to it . . . nor have to restrict her baby-time because of it! But, when Bundle of Joy's mama and daddy heard that Tom was going to be here for the day, they insisted that he and I both come for supper. And, believe me, that food tasted GOOD after a hard day's work! It was a lovely end to the day, and both Tom and I are SO glad that we can still enjoy each other's company . . . AND the company of friends . . . when we're together. Despite a little bit of ugliness during the course of the divorce, one can hardly ask for more.
Because I was here at home yesterday, a normal in-office day for me, I'll spend some time in town today, both helping my folks with their butchering and getting some work done. That AND welcoming a couple of my most favorite little trick-or-treaters when they stop in at the office. :)
What are YOUR plans for Halloween? BOO!
Monday Night
I got so many wonderful and supportive comments in response to my last post, that I thought I'd address them here.
So, to add to the story, when I chanced a glance at the poultry yard this morning before heading down the road 3 hours to have the car (finally) repaired, I didn't see my last duck. He's usually right there in the throng of geese. I'll have a more complete report for you in the morning. (No, the geese & ducks only go into the chicken house on the most bitter of winter nights. Believe me, I've tried convincing them otherwise, but to no avail. Rest assured that my chicken / poultry yard is going to undergo MASSIVE rehabilitation.)
Anyway, Erin wrote, "How long after getting ducklings in the spring does it take for them to start laying again?" You know, I haven't kept good track of duck productivity because they've always been a hobby for me - an added bonus. And, I don't have my duck reference book handy. BUT, if memory serves (although I could be totally wrong), they won't lay until the following spring.
She also asked, "If you were to get [poultry that was] already laying from someone else . . . would they stop laying due to stress of moving?" Yes, any bird (chickens, ducks, geese) will, to one extent or another. But, after a full week, assuming all is as it should be, they'd be laying normally again. This was my first knee-jerk impulse, too: to see if anyone had any extras that they weren't going to butcher this fall. But, until I get rid of the predator (not likely, considering what I think it is) AND remodel the housing / fencing situation, it would be pointless. (But don't hold me to that, okay? I'm weak when it comes to poultry.)
She finished up with, "Some people would take offense, but I think I would take that predator out." Believe me, you're not the first one to express this opinion!
So, another thing that's really struck me is that being away from home does NOT help situations like this. There have been OODLES of times in the years past when I (as a homemaker) would be alerted to some sort of attack by either the dogs or a screeching chicken . . . and go tearing out into the yard to protect what was mine. When I'm not around to hear / see it . . . well, I can't do much about it. But, there is a "fix": the aforementioned "much more secure" housing situation I'm going to have to build.
Susan asked, "Have you contacted your parks department - or office of DEC? There must be something you/they can do to dissuade SOS from parking at your feed lot. National Treasure or not, he/she is negatively affecting your homestead." My initial reaction was to shake my head and give a wry chuckle, suggesting that "no, of course there's nothing I can do - after all, I'm in THEIR territory." But, then I had a second thought and so did some research.
Here's one snippet:
Did you miss me? Didn't even know I've been gone for the better part of an hour, did you? When I got home tonight, I didn't hear the geese. I called out to them, but still nothing. Sitting here, writing about them, I got to thinking . . . and so called the dogs, pulled on my outside clothes, and grabbed a lantern. Under the light of the nearly full moon, I strained to see their white shapes in the corners of the chicken yard. Nothing. Siiiilence. It was so quiet, so . . . dead . . . sounding. Then, I heard a hollow, low "quwahk". It sounded echo-y, like it was coming from the . . . no way . . . chicken house?! YES, all my remaining poultry (geese, all of 'em, that male duck got "got") WISED UP and are now locked up tight for the night. Hmmm, Survival of the Fittest? Are geese the smartest in a contest between themselves, chickens, and ducks? Makes you wonder, doesn't it?
Anyway, back to Sparkless. You're right, this is exactly what I'm going to (need to) do. My birds are free-range . . . kinda of. The poultry yard is roughly 60' x 60' with about 1/4 of that wooded. There's an 8' high fence all around. But, since it's nearly impossible to put a mesh/wire/netting "roof" on that space (unless you're Donald Trump, and I haven't seen him doing much homesteading lately), that *IS* a weakness. Another stupid move that I/we made when putting up the fence was using existing trees where we could instead of fence posts. A good utilization of Mother Nature, to be sure, but also a great natural ladder for predators such as pine martens to climb up (on the outside of the fence) and then back down (on the inside) . . . and vice versa.
So, to add to the story, when I chanced a glance at the poultry yard this morning before heading down the road 3 hours to have the car (finally) repaired, I didn't see my last duck. He's usually right there in the throng of geese. I'll have a more complete report for you in the morning. (No, the geese & ducks only go into the chicken house on the most bitter of winter nights. Believe me, I've tried convincing them otherwise, but to no avail. Rest assured that my chicken / poultry yard is going to undergo MASSIVE rehabilitation.)
Anyway, Erin wrote, "How long after getting ducklings in the spring does it take for them to start laying again?" You know, I haven't kept good track of duck productivity because they've always been a hobby for me - an added bonus. And, I don't have my duck reference book handy. BUT, if memory serves (although I could be totally wrong), they won't lay until the following spring.
She also asked, "If you were to get [poultry that was] already laying from someone else . . . would they stop laying due to stress of moving?" Yes, any bird (chickens, ducks, geese) will, to one extent or another. But, after a full week, assuming all is as it should be, they'd be laying normally again. This was my first knee-jerk impulse, too: to see if anyone had any extras that they weren't going to butcher this fall. But, until I get rid of the predator (not likely, considering what I think it is) AND remodel the housing / fencing situation, it would be pointless. (But don't hold me to that, okay? I'm weak when it comes to poultry.)
She finished up with, "Some people would take offense, but I think I would take that predator out." Believe me, you're not the first one to express this opinion!
So, another thing that's really struck me is that being away from home does NOT help situations like this. There have been OODLES of times in the years past when I (as a homemaker) would be alerted to some sort of attack by either the dogs or a screeching chicken . . . and go tearing out into the yard to protect what was mine. When I'm not around to hear / see it . . . well, I can't do much about it. But, there is a "fix": the aforementioned "much more secure" housing situation I'm going to have to build.
Susan asked, "Have you contacted your parks department - or office of DEC? There must be something you/they can do to dissuade SOS from parking at your feed lot. National Treasure or not, he/she is negatively affecting your homestead." My initial reaction was to shake my head and give a wry chuckle, suggesting that "no, of course there's nothing I can do - after all, I'm in THEIR territory." But, then I had a second thought and so did some research.
Here's one snippet:
Nuisance animals are wildlife (not domesticated animals like dogs or cats) that cause property damage. Some animals which are normally protected by Minnesota Statute can be taken without a license or permit if they are doing damage. The animals included under this provision of Minnesota law include: mink, squirrels, rabbit, hare, raccoon, lynx, bobcat, fox, muskrat, opossum and beaver. Other unprotected birds include the English sparrow, starling, and common pigeon. All of these animals may be taken by the landowner, manager or occupant if the animal is causing property damage.Notice no mention of eagles? Yeah, well:
Permits for control of eagles to prevent or reduce predation on livestock have not been issued by the US Department of Interior since 1970. Also, regulations promulgated by the Secretary of Interior under authority of the Endangered Species Act of 1973 prohibit “taking” of an endangered species, such as bald eagles.So much for that. But at least we know. (Insert wan smile.)
Finally, Sparkless (WELCOME, by the way!!) said, "Can you put some chicken wire over the chicken run or are they free range? If they were totally enclosed in wire the eagle wouldn't be able to get to them."
* * *
Did you miss me? Didn't even know I've been gone for the better part of an hour, did you? When I got home tonight, I didn't hear the geese. I called out to them, but still nothing. Sitting here, writing about them, I got to thinking . . . and so called the dogs, pulled on my outside clothes, and grabbed a lantern. Under the light of the nearly full moon, I strained to see their white shapes in the corners of the chicken yard. Nothing. Siiiilence. It was so quiet, so . . . dead . . . sounding. Then, I heard a hollow, low "quwahk". It sounded echo-y, like it was coming from the . . . no way . . . chicken house?! YES, all my remaining poultry (geese, all of 'em, that male duck got "got") WISED UP and are now locked up tight for the night. Hmmm, Survival of the Fittest? Are geese the smartest in a contest between themselves, chickens, and ducks? Makes you wonder, doesn't it?
Oh, too, my recent crashing through the woods by the light of the moon ("by the liiiiiight, of the silvery mooooon . . . "). While I was shutting up the geese, I heard Maisy and Tucker rooting around in a very specific area on the outside of the fence. Of course, this is also a particularly THICK and difficult-to-get-to area. By the time I got in there, I could see that it was one of, if not THE, dining area(s). One chicken carcass was there and Maisy had already absconded off with what I'm assuming was another . . . probably a lot more whole than the well-picked skeleton I found.
Anyway, back to Sparkless. You're right, this is exactly what I'm going to (need to) do. My birds are free-range . . . kinda of. The poultry yard is roughly 60' x 60' with about 1/4 of that wooded. There's an 8' high fence all around. But, since it's nearly impossible to put a mesh/wire/netting "roof" on that space (unless you're Donald Trump, and I haven't seen him doing much homesteading lately), that *IS* a weakness. Another stupid move that I/we made when putting up the fence was using existing trees where we could instead of fence posts. A good utilization of Mother Nature, to be sure, but also a great natural ladder for predators such as pine martens to climb up (on the outside of the fence) and then back down (on the inside) . . . and vice versa.
So, as the months pass, I'll keep you updated on my new poultry yard plans. In the meantime, I guess I'm Goose Mama.
More Death & Disappointment
Cheery title, huh?
Son of Sam (that's my new name for my poultry predator) has struck again. I was greeted by the half-eaten carcass of one of this spring's 15 Partridge Rocks at the gate into the chicken yard. She was on the outside, so, flying over the 8' high fence, she must have escaped the carnage of the other day, only to be gotten in the last 24 hours.
As I entered the pen, I instantly saw that the cluster of ducks and geese was 2 ducks short - my two females, Mae being the only named one. I said, out loud, "You two better be laying [on a nest] somewhere!"
Of course they weren't.
I walked the roughly 3600 square feet of the yard and found a chicken foot and leg underneath pine trees that had been splattered white by the many feces of a bird on a perch. Looking up, I saw chicken feathers stuck to the limbs of the large cedar, apparently the favorite dining location of Son of Sam.
There was no sign of the two ducks, but maybe some will surface since Tucker presently brought out of the woods the other leg of that chicken, attached to her eaten body.
* * *
I've been sitting here a little while, watching the blinking cursor on this laptop screen and scratching Bonzi's head in order to prevent her from jumping onto my lap, i.e. the keyboard. Dosie is laying on top of the rocker I'm in, snuggled against my back.
You know how people can take it and take it and take it until they finally snap? That's what I feel like I'm dangerously close to right now, and I'm worried I'll take it out on one of the animals.
This interruption brought to you by Jif peanut butter and 'Dancing With The Stars'.
Okay, it's about 8 hours later now. After I stopped writing, I took a freshly picked (relatively speaking) apple from my parents' yard and a jar of Jif (junky) peanut butter upstairs to the library. I shut the door and blocked out all annoyances (i.e. cats and dogs). Then I watched 45 minutes of Tuesday night's 'Dancing With The Stars' (thanks for taping those for me, Mom). Then I got my groove back on and went back to life here at Swamp River Ridge.
Also, I feel I should clarify. When I said that I was worried that I might take my anger out on one of the animals, I certainly didn't mean that I would kick, beat or do other dastardly things . . . but I might holler. And I hate it when I do that. Anyway, just wanted to clear up any potential misunderstandings there.
The thing that really frustrated me about losing the two female ducks this morning is that it means a complete and total lack of eggs this coming winter. It was upsetting enough, losing the chickens, but I knew I'd still have duck eggs since those two gals lay fairly regularly, year-round.
Anyway, I don't know - I'm just in a mood today. I guess it shouldn't be a surprise, considering what's happened . . . just feels like it's been an awful lot lately.
Despite all of this, I did have a good and productive afternoon & evening. I finally got my Halloween decorations out, and I got the living room all cleaned up . . . a task that had been nagging at me for a while. Didn't get to the dishes, but I did get wood in and got a little more cleanup done around the woodshed. Throw in some more vacuuming and dusting, some fighting with the washing machine, hauling a bunch of stuff out of the bed of the truck, and getting the repaired tire back on the car, and you have a synopsis of my day. But, sigh, here we are at the end of it, and there was so much more I wanted to do . . . .
Son of Sam (that's my new name for my poultry predator) has struck again. I was greeted by the half-eaten carcass of one of this spring's 15 Partridge Rocks at the gate into the chicken yard. She was on the outside, so, flying over the 8' high fence, she must have escaped the carnage of the other day, only to be gotten in the last 24 hours.
As I entered the pen, I instantly saw that the cluster of ducks and geese was 2 ducks short - my two females, Mae being the only named one. I said, out loud, "You two better be laying [on a nest] somewhere!"
Of course they weren't.
I walked the roughly 3600 square feet of the yard and found a chicken foot and leg underneath pine trees that had been splattered white by the many feces of a bird on a perch. Looking up, I saw chicken feathers stuck to the limbs of the large cedar, apparently the favorite dining location of Son of Sam.
There was no sign of the two ducks, but maybe some will surface since Tucker presently brought out of the woods the other leg of that chicken, attached to her eaten body.
* * *
I've been sitting here a little while, watching the blinking cursor on this laptop screen and scratching Bonzi's head in order to prevent her from jumping onto my lap, i.e. the keyboard. Dosie is laying on top of the rocker I'm in, snuggled against my back.
You know how people can take it and take it and take it until they finally snap? That's what I feel like I'm dangerously close to right now, and I'm worried I'll take it out on one of the animals.
This interruption brought to you by Jif peanut butter and 'Dancing With The Stars'.
Okay, it's about 8 hours later now. After I stopped writing, I took a freshly picked (relatively speaking) apple from my parents' yard and a jar of Jif (junky) peanut butter upstairs to the library. I shut the door and blocked out all annoyances (i.e. cats and dogs). Then I watched 45 minutes of Tuesday night's 'Dancing With The Stars' (thanks for taping those for me, Mom). Then I got my groove back on and went back to life here at Swamp River Ridge.
Also, I feel I should clarify. When I said that I was worried that I might take my anger out on one of the animals, I certainly didn't mean that I would kick, beat or do other dastardly things . . . but I might holler. And I hate it when I do that. Anyway, just wanted to clear up any potential misunderstandings there.
The thing that really frustrated me about losing the two female ducks this morning is that it means a complete and total lack of eggs this coming winter. It was upsetting enough, losing the chickens, but I knew I'd still have duck eggs since those two gals lay fairly regularly, year-round.
Anyway, I don't know - I'm just in a mood today. I guess it shouldn't be a surprise, considering what's happened . . . just feels like it's been an awful lot lately.
Despite all of this, I did have a good and productive afternoon & evening. I finally got my Halloween decorations out, and I got the living room all cleaned up . . . a task that had been nagging at me for a while. Didn't get to the dishes, but I did get wood in and got a little more cleanup done around the woodshed. Throw in some more vacuuming and dusting, some fighting with the washing machine, hauling a bunch of stuff out of the bed of the truck, and getting the repaired tire back on the car, and you have a synopsis of my day. But, sigh, here we are at the end of it, and there was so much more I wanted to do . . . .
TGI . . . Oh, *#@! It.
How's YOUR Friday morning going? Mine's going so well (insert dripping sarcasm) that I thought I'd make another cup of coffee and sit down to eat a piece of chocolate cake for breakfast and get my frustrations out here, you lucky people you! (Ha!)
I should be long gone, in to the office, by now. I haven't even taken a shower yet, and I must take a shower before subjecting the general public to my presence.
But, I digress. You know how they say that bad things come in three? Yeah, well, #s 1 and 3 are more inconveniences than bad things, but the superstition still stands true.
After getting gas last night and before I'd even cleared a mile out of town, a cop drove past me and then turned around immediately, putting on the flashing lights. Sh********t. I knew exactly why: I have a low-beam bulb out (high-beams are just fine). As the cop walked up to the truck, I thought, "Dang, I wonder if he's gonna rip me out of the truck and throw me on to the ground when he sees me opening the door instead of rolling down the window?" (The driver's window is broken, and, yes, it's on my To Do list once the settlement check comes through.)
Fortunately, SHE (female cop, very pleasant) didn't care a whit about that, but then, much to my surprise, I was busy yelling at the dogs to STAND DOWN, both of them straining from the backseat to rip her trooper's hat off! Wow! I was impressed! I've always wondered if they'd actually defend me should I ever be unlucky enough to have to send out distress signals . . . and, apparently, they would! (Previous to last night, I'd always thought they'd simply lick a bad guy to death, if anything!)
I'd already pulled out my license, and she asked for my proof of insurance. No problem, I'd seen the square little form in one of two places. I pulled it from the visor. Oh. April of '08. No problem, there's one here on the dashboard! October of '09. Well, we were making progress. I lean over to the glove compartment: a-ha! Year 2010 . . . but April, not October. Doh! Fortunately, she believed me that I DID have insurance and just went back to run my license. I sat in the truck, marveling at how bright and annoying those red and blue flashing lights are in one's rear view mirror and thinking about how all the folks at home with scanners (yours truly included) were deciphering her message to the dispatcher of Tango, Bravo, Alpha, Charlie (insert proper representations for my name). But, I knew that as soon as they figured out that Chicken Mama had been pulled over, the dispatcher would also return with the good message, "No hits on a 2000 Chevy 1-Ton, Silver in color."
So, after the delay, I drove away with a warning to get the headlight fixed, a reminder that anything hanging from the rear view mirror (in my case, a small, wooden chicken!) was illegal (it IS?!), and the notation 'No Proof of Ins.' on the warning ticket. Maybe it helped that, when looking for the insurance card, I did show her the bulb I'd bought for the headlight! And, she said, too, that the only reason she'd pulled me over just for that was because there'd been SO many deer/car collisions lately. Fair enough. Besides, I KNEW I was playing the Game of Chance 'cause that headlight's been out since last winter. Again, one of those things waiting on the To Do list. Guess it just moved up to the top.
Anyway, that was (not really) Bad Thing #1.
Bad Thing #2 WAS a bad thing.
When I went out to do chores this morning, I finally saw (after that VERY brief partial sighting a couple of weeks ago), my poultry predator. I watched it soar out to the massive pine on the driveway. "NOW's my chance!", I thought.
I grabbed my .410, made sure it was loaded and grabbed an extra cartridge, and the dogs and I set off down the driveway.
As I got nearer, I thought, "Geez, that thing IS big!" It had what looked like a HUGE body but a tiny head. Could it be a turkey vulture? But, don't they only eat carrion - they don't actually KILL anything?
I got close enough to get a good bead on it . . . and then realized why it's head had appeared small against the bright sky. It was a glorious, massive, brilliantly white-headed . . . bald eagle. In the words of my late mother-in-law, I spewed, "Gaaaaaaahd DAMMIT!" A freakin' bald eagle. Are you KIDDING me? That's like finding out that a polar bear is what ate your cat. Are you going to kill it? Of course not. Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t. Instead, I said, "HEY, you beautiful bird! Stop eating my chickens!"
Walking back to the chicken yard, I looked in disgust at the faux owl I'd mounted on top of the chicken house as protection. Fat lot of good "Barnie" had done.
Was he going to protect any more of the birds from A BALD EAGLE?! Probably not. And, in fact, definitely not. Why? Because when I continued on with the chores I began noticing clumps of feathers here . . . and there . . . and a lot of s-i-l-e-n-c-e.
So. More of my thoughts on all of this later when I've had time to process it.
Meanwhile, on to #3. I've had a slow leaker in one of the tires on the Yaris, and, since I'm finally getting it in to the shop on Monday, I needed to take it off and drop the tire off at a local fellow's informal shop this AM to fix it.
The lug nuts are off, but the wheel will NOT come off. I've whacked it with the 3# sledge. Repeatedly. I've soaked it with anti-corrosion juice. I've whacked it some more. Finally, I gave up and came in here to do this.
Now, I'll head back out to see if the fluid has done any good, preferring to load it into the back of the pickup while I'm still in my work clothes. Wish me luck.
(Have I ever mentioned that my life is N-E-V-E-R boring????)
I should be long gone, in to the office, by now. I haven't even taken a shower yet, and I must take a shower before subjecting the general public to my presence.
But, I digress. You know how they say that bad things come in three? Yeah, well, #s 1 and 3 are more inconveniences than bad things, but the superstition still stands true.
After getting gas last night and before I'd even cleared a mile out of town, a cop drove past me and then turned around immediately, putting on the flashing lights. Sh********t. I knew exactly why: I have a low-beam bulb out (high-beams are just fine). As the cop walked up to the truck, I thought, "Dang, I wonder if he's gonna rip me out of the truck and throw me on to the ground when he sees me opening the door instead of rolling down the window?" (The driver's window is broken, and, yes, it's on my To Do list once the settlement check comes through.)
Fortunately, SHE (female cop, very pleasant) didn't care a whit about that, but then, much to my surprise, I was busy yelling at the dogs to STAND DOWN, both of them straining from the backseat to rip her trooper's hat off! Wow! I was impressed! I've always wondered if they'd actually defend me should I ever be unlucky enough to have to send out distress signals . . . and, apparently, they would! (Previous to last night, I'd always thought they'd simply lick a bad guy to death, if anything!)
I'd already pulled out my license, and she asked for my proof of insurance. No problem, I'd seen the square little form in one of two places. I pulled it from the visor. Oh. April of '08. No problem, there's one here on the dashboard! October of '09. Well, we were making progress. I lean over to the glove compartment: a-ha! Year 2010 . . . but April, not October. Doh! Fortunately, she believed me that I DID have insurance and just went back to run my license. I sat in the truck, marveling at how bright and annoying those red and blue flashing lights are in one's rear view mirror and thinking about how all the folks at home with scanners (yours truly included) were deciphering her message to the dispatcher of Tango, Bravo, Alpha, Charlie (insert proper representations for my name). But, I knew that as soon as they figured out that Chicken Mama had been pulled over, the dispatcher would also return with the good message, "No hits on a 2000 Chevy 1-Ton, Silver in color."
So, after the delay, I drove away with a warning to get the headlight fixed, a reminder that anything hanging from the rear view mirror (in my case, a small, wooden chicken!) was illegal (it IS?!), and the notation 'No Proof of Ins.' on the warning ticket. Maybe it helped that, when looking for the insurance card, I did show her the bulb I'd bought for the headlight! And, she said, too, that the only reason she'd pulled me over just for that was because there'd been SO many deer/car collisions lately. Fair enough. Besides, I KNEW I was playing the Game of Chance 'cause that headlight's been out since last winter. Again, one of those things waiting on the To Do list. Guess it just moved up to the top.
Anyway, that was (not really) Bad Thing #1.
Bad Thing #2 WAS a bad thing.
When I went out to do chores this morning, I finally saw (after that VERY brief partial sighting a couple of weeks ago), my poultry predator. I watched it soar out to the massive pine on the driveway. "NOW's my chance!", I thought.
I grabbed my .410, made sure it was loaded and grabbed an extra cartridge, and the dogs and I set off down the driveway.
As I got nearer, I thought, "Geez, that thing IS big!" It had what looked like a HUGE body but a tiny head. Could it be a turkey vulture? But, don't they only eat carrion - they don't actually KILL anything?
I got close enough to get a good bead on it . . . and then realized why it's head had appeared small against the bright sky. It was a glorious, massive, brilliantly white-headed . . . bald eagle. In the words of my late mother-in-law, I spewed, "Gaaaaaaahd DAMMIT!" A freakin' bald eagle. Are you KIDDING me? That's like finding out that a polar bear is what ate your cat. Are you going to kill it? Of course not. Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t. Instead, I said, "HEY, you beautiful bird! Stop eating my chickens!"
Walking back to the chicken yard, I looked in disgust at the faux owl I'd mounted on top of the chicken house as protection. Fat lot of good "Barnie" had done.
Was he going to protect any more of the birds from A BALD EAGLE?! Probably not. And, in fact, definitely not. Why? Because when I continued on with the chores I began noticing clumps of feathers here . . . and there . . . and a lot of s-i-l-e-n-c-e.
The ducks and geese were milling around as usual, but that was it.
Every.
Single.
Chicken.
Was.
Gone.
There weren't even any carcasses. Just those few clumps of feathers and one beautiful tail feather from my rooster Big Boy who I'd had for YEARS (he was at least 5 or 6).
So. More of my thoughts on all of this later when I've had time to process it.
Meanwhile, on to #3. I've had a slow leaker in one of the tires on the Yaris, and, since I'm finally getting it in to the shop on Monday, I needed to take it off and drop the tire off at a local fellow's informal shop this AM to fix it.
Think that damn thing will come off? Nope.
The lug nuts are off, but the wheel will NOT come off. I've whacked it with the 3# sledge. Repeatedly. I've soaked it with anti-corrosion juice. I've whacked it some more. Finally, I gave up and came in here to do this.
Now, I'll head back out to see if the fluid has done any good, preferring to load it into the back of the pickup while I'm still in my work clothes. Wish me luck.
P.S. I finally figured out that I had to be smarter than the wheel. I slipped underneath the back of the car and whacked from the INSIDE!
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