Every night as the sun drops in the sky our flock makes there way to the coop where they take claim to their spot on the roost to rest for the night. Early in the year I would spend a great deal of time chasing them in out of fear something would get them before I had a chance to close them in for the night. At after a few nights of being too busy to chase them down I realized how much easier it was just to let them put themselves to bed when they were ready, you know, instead of running around with your arms flailing like a crazy person. Our routine has remained that simple since then with little exception. Every once in a while the gate to the run blows shut in the wind and I have to go open it for the few ladies who can manage to jump out but not jump back in. (Really?! It's like they try to be difficult.)
Last night that very thing happened and my dear husband thought he would stay toasty inside by the fire and wait for me to come home from the grocery run to handle it. The problem with his plan was that it was dark by time I returned which meant that the hens probably my had found places to roost and I would have to find them all and carry them to bed. I grabbed a flashlight, slipped on my boots and set out to find my chickens. I stopped in the coop to see just how many I had to track down. As the gate creaked open the chickens started stirring and I was shot a look or two as I shined the light into sleeping faces. Sleeping chickens are funny, they wake and look at you but don't move, even if you're lifting them. A head count of five told me six birds were (hopefully) roosting elsewhere. It also brought back a little rage at the loss of my other chickens, no longer am I counting to 15.
I stepped out of the coop and circled around the fence and into the open part of the building where I thought I would find them. A quick shine of the flashlight revealed a cluster of hens roosting on a support beam along the far wall. As I turned a half circle to see if I could spot anymore of the ladies I caught glimpse of one by herself and continued around to spot another. I started to bring the light back around to determine who I could carry back first when the flashlight illuminated something I hadn't notice on the first pass, a opossum. At the foot of my chicken! As she sat perched atop a saw horse he was on his hind legs peering up at her. When my light hit him he froze. I thought he was surely going to bolt and I was already playing out in my head the conversation I was going to have with my husband: now we have to worry about another predator when keep our chickens safe.
You know what opossum don't do? Run away. I remember encountering one when I was in high school and she would run you off, she never backed down. She would stand on her hind legs and hiss until you would give in and run, giving her domain. There was even a brief episode where a few guys we hung out with decided to take her on, wielding their fancy new knives. She still didn't cave and those guys ran from her like little pansies after she charged them.
I was equipped with a flashlight and a cell phone so I did what anyone in my situation would do, I called my husband. Wouldn't you know I had to call him twice to get him to answer? After very matter of factly telling him he needed to get his gun and come get rid of this opossum he responded,"Nuh uh, are you being serious? There is a opossum? Where is it?" There was no concern in his voice, no urgency in his pace. I actually had to confirm he was in fact going to come out.
While waiting for him to make the journey out to the building I took a step toward the nasty terrorist and he backed down away from the chicken and slinked behind a board propped against the back wall. I stood holding him at bay with the light. No way was I letting him get away after finding a potential new food source for his family.
My fearless husband arrived to take out this opossum and save our chickens....with a baseball bat. Not what I expected. I handed off the flashlight and scooped up my nearly eaten chicken and carried her to the coop. I returned to scoop up another to clear the path to our pest. I pulled the board back away from the wall and the husband attempted to chase the opossum out. He wouldn't come, he knew he has the upper hand where he was. After using a little force he scurried out to the yard where he stayed, hissing at us. He was injured and pissed.
This was the part where I questioned the choice of tool to take care of our problem. While my husband defended his choice (due to the noise that would have been created by shooting they would undoubtedly attract the attention of our neighbors and perhaps the police) we both agreed that we would need a small gun to be able to handle these problems in the future because disposing of animals in this fashion is unappealing.
Once the threat to the chickens was gone we put the rest of the birds to roost.They were shook and did not go without a fight, which helped put into perspective the fact that we were doing what was best to protect our chickens. Even so, taking the life of an animal isn't something we take lightly. There was a mix of emotions as we walked back to the house. I was relieved the chickens were all accounted for and that my husband was able to handle a task I wasn't sure I could handle, but it was still sad we had to kill something.
As we approached the house the neighbor's yard was lit up with a show of christmas lights and there was adistant hum of festive music that played in time with the lights. As we started up the stairs and all was right in the world as we knew our flock would be safe for another night and we were another step deeper into farm life.
