WHAT THE HELL, WHY MUST YOU PLAGUE ME AT IN THREE THIRTY HE GODDAMN MORNING!!!?!?? Of course we couldn’t have early shift raccoons, we’ve got late shift beasties.
This time, as this is not our first rodeo, in fact we’re getting to be experts at waking up in the middle of the night to chase raccoons off, we actually manage to get dressed and we both grab flashlights.
We can’t find the raccoons. We do find two holes in the fence where they attempted to drag the big girl out of the pen. I decide that since we can’t know those are the only holes, and we did lose one last time after locking them into the coop, we should put the remaining chickens in the dog crate on the back porch.
Ryan was thrilled. But he did it anyway ‘cause I wine.
While he’s installing the remaining chickens into the dog crate I go looking for bird remains. I do find a carcass - only HOLY CRAP she’s not dead. Her breathing is very labored, she’s laying on her side, and she’s clearly been mauled. I ask Ryan to get the hatchet.
This is a big deal for us. Neither of us has ever killed one of our girls for any reason. Even when they were extreme pains in the ass. I’d like to say we’re hardened farm folks and don’t blink at this sort of thing. But, while the chickens aren’t pets exactly, they are creatures in our care. It’s hard to end something in your care.
He goes to find her neck and suddenly, she sits up, squawks, and runs off.
IT’S THREE THIRTY IN GODDAMN MORNING and we’re searching the backyard for an errant, injured chicken.
Living the dream folks, living the dream.
We find her (smart girl actually hid pretty well) and we put her on top of the dog crate so she’s separated from the other chickens, but with them at the same time. We lock up the porch, wash up and go back to bed.
This morning we moved the healthy chickens back out to the pen, but the injured one is in the dog crate with food and water. She’s not good, and now it seems both her eyes were hurt. We’re not sure if we’re doing the kind thing by waiting, but we’re doing the best we can moment to moment.
Oh, and the trap - it was TOSSED aside which sprung the gate. We’re dealing with Raccoon Hulk.