Fox in the Hen House

The fox that has been tormenting my hens is finally dead. 

I didn't get the killing shot in, my husband did...but it's still an interesting story, especially considering that I've always wondered if I'd have the guts to fire a gun in defense of my poultry if the need had ever arisen.

I was walking by the bedroom window folding laundry on Preparation Day last week when I saw him -- this mangy, old, disgusting red fox, pinning down my favorite hen (the one I call "Mama Bird"), pulling out her feathers and eating her alive.

I was so mad...but so scared -- my husband wasn't around, my neighbors weren't at home, so I had to be the one to deal with the problem.

I set my 1 1/2 year old son down on the couch and turned on 'Peter Pan' while I went to go get my gun. Unfortunately, as I retrieved it I realized it was out of ammo, so I had to go to the only other one I was any good with, the pump action shotgun. 

The thing I don't like about this gun is that, unlike mine, it has a pretty heavy kickback. I always get a pretty bad headache after firing a couple of rounds. The thing I do like about it is that since it is a shotgun, its pretty much 'point and shoot'. Hard to miss, especially within a couple of feet.

It was already loaded so I grabbed my ear protection (in this respect, I am a total wimp) and sneaked out the side door.

The fox saw me just as I got to the chicken run. He tried to take a couple of more bites, which allowed me to get close -- the muzzle of the gun could have touched him if I got any closer.

I braced and fired -- BUT THE SAFETY WAS ON! No, no, a million times no! How could I forget to turn the safety off?

The fox took that chance to scurry over the side of the chicken wire and make a run for it. 

I still couldn't turn the safety off.

After finally figuring it out (its a small button on the side, a lot less conspicuous than the safety on my gun), located the fox (who was making a break for the trees).

Crouch. Aim. Fire. Instant remembering of how much I hate firing this gun...the kickback is murder on my shoulder. I hit ground near the tree, and not the fox. He got away.

My hen seemed okay for the moment -- maybe scared. There was no blood so I assumed she was fine.

I went inside, checked on my son. He was still right where I left him.

So, I sat by the window and waited. After about 45 minutes, he came back.

Outside, I managed to sneak up closer...crouch, aim...and off he ran. Sneaky little guy.

Scott pulled up just then, home early from work. He fired a shot into the treeline to scare the fox away. He notified me we had a Mary Kay party to go to that night. 

So, my husband sat by the window and kept watch while I got cleaned up to leave. I had a sinking feeling though that something bad would happen while I was gone. I knew we would be home late...

We left, had fun at the party, but on our way home we got a call from our neighbor's daughter, letting us know that the fox was in the chicken run. He was eating another chicken. 

Ooh, was I mad. That special kind of pregnant mad too.

When we got to the driveway (which is really long), I turned the headlights off and inched towards the house, parking in front of the front door and turned off the car. 

It was storming, pitch black except for the lightening. Scott got his flashlight from his truck, went inside for the shotgun, and sneaked up on the fox.

I covered my son's ears (we were still sitting in the car -- I had inched up to park in the carport so I could get a closer look). Shot one. Shot two. Scott ran inside to get another gun that was fully loaded. Shot three.

The fox was dead. But so was my chicken. After putting my son to bed, my husband and I put  on some gloves and took the bodies far into the woods to dispose of them.

Unfortunately, the next day, Mama Bird wasn't doing so good. Her air sacks were distended from her body and I knew she was about to die.

I cried a whole lot when my husband put her down and I disposed of the carcass. I still get sad thinking about it. I can slit a chicken's throat for food...but two chickens dead by fox attack...sheer waste. 

So, I am down to two chickens -- a buff orpington and a barred rocks. 

Soon, I will be buying some more laying hens (none of mine are laying anymore). I can't help but be proud of my husband for getting that fox (in the pouring rain)...but it is still upsetting to think that those poor birds died unnecessarily. 

I guess that's farm life.