Battle for the Chickens

The night was dark.

The breeze was cool.

She lay awake listening.

Was that the snap of a trap?

Should she get up and see?

Better do so, wouldn’t want that coon to escape again, lost too many chickens.

So, up she rose.

No. Empty.

Well, better check the chicken house.

Why, it’s open!

She hurried over anxiously.

Shining the light in the little hatch door she tries to look around.

No, can’t get a good look here.

Around she went, raising her hand to check the lid of the nesting boxes.

“Why, it’s loose!” she thought as it lifted in her hand.

Inside, only two teenage chicks!

Where are the other three?

One, over on the floor.

That’s unusual.

She put the lid down and hurried to the large door (usually used for cleaning).

Opening it the flashlight brightened the little room.

The chickens stirred, blinking sleepily at her.

One rooster,

One, two, three, four, five hens.

All the grown ones accounted for.

No other chicks?

No, just the three!

The coon triumphed again.

Securing the door, she stepped out and flashed the light around the yard.

No sign of the missing ones.

She found the latch and secured the nesting box.

No, that wouldn’t keep out a coon.

Maybe if she weighed it down…

Yes, that’s better.

Now for the hatch.

That’s not too secure either.

Will have to fix that in the morning.

Well, this will have to do.

She firmly braced a board against it and went back to bed.

Time and again through the night she rose to sounds.

Is that something trying to raise the nesting box cover? or the trap?

Finally, the alarm sounded. Time to get up.

He needed to get up and off to work.

“Do you hear that outside?” he whispered.

“Yes, probably an armadillo, but I’ll go check” she replies.

With robe, slippers and flashlight she steps outside.

It goes around the corner.

She follows.

Suddenly there’s a rustling, grunting and scuffling by the compost pile.

The sound betrays the coons and she knows before she sees them.

“Quick, it’s 3 coons”, she cries.

Up a tree they scamper as she watches.

Armed and ready to defend he soon emerges (although it feels like hours as she waits), Shortly her three valiant sons arrive as well, armed with lights.

Glowing eyes, high among the branches of a pecan betray the thieves.

The deed is done, the varmints caught.

Victory!

Another night, better rest, quiet.

The chickens are safe.

By Mother

Tags: Photo, Countryside, Racoon, Chickens