As I sit here watching Iron Chef America, I'm listening only halfway. What else I am listening for is gunshots. My husband and Brother-in-Law are lying in wait for the coyotes. They took one of the alpacas last night and, well, it needs to be taken care of. And this is why we are armed out here in the boonies.
We moved out here to rural Kitsap County in 1996. We lived in Everett, WA and right off the main drag. There was a bar across the alley and their parking lot was separated from us by one small house. At 2:00 AM every night, we'd hear them all leaving noisily. It was always noisily.
Most of the time the noise was the only problem. One time I woke up, looked out in the yard and saw a guy passed out under our Doug fir. Another time, a guy from the bar led police on a merry chase through the neighborhood, hitting my Mother-in-Law's car and driving it up onto the curb, totaling it.
But the one that did it for us was the drunk guy who started banging on our door at about 2:30 AM. He was seriously drunk and kept yelling that he was sorry and "baby, take me back." Turned out that he'd got into his car after closing, passed out, thought he'd driven home and ended up on our doorstep. After that, our room mate decided to get a handgun. With a young child in the house I was worried, of course, but his room was in the finished attic and our daughter couldn't get up there. So the final year of our stay in Everett was protected.
When we moved out here, we knew of the presence of at least one bear and a cougar. They were never a problem but it made everyone feel better that we had protection - in a safe that only the owner could enter. One time, a small pack of dogs came onto the property and started worrying the girl's horse. We didn't need to, but were prepared to if necessary. Animal control was able to deal with them but now we knew that there was another danger out here.
The rats and raccoons have taken their share of chickens, too. But we have a barn cat who is pretty good at ratting and a wrist rocket for the raccoons - those big steel balls proved to be a good deterrent.
Still, we'd never needed to use the weapons. We take them back in the meadow to keep our aim true and to educate the younger generation (once they were 12+). But they spend most of their time in their respective safes (I have one and Hubby has one).
But last night the coyotes finally became a problem - they never have before. We've been pretty lucky that way up to now. Our alpacas are basically pasture pets, keeping the grass mowed and getting shaved. We've had 2 horses but, other than the dogs that one instance, they were never threatened. Now, though, we can't allow the coyotes to think that they have their own personal smorgasbord.
So, my husband and brother-in-law are waiting in the basement, watching the camera feed - Hubby's TV engineer career is sometimes useful at home - waiting for the coyotes to come. They dragged poor Bean's body to a spot where they can throw a light on and see their targets. I really hate to have it come to this. I like all animals, even "pests" and I would much prefer to live and let live. Heck, I even live trap the mice and take them out back to the meadow when they come inside (or the kitty brings one in). But now... I'm half-paying attention to the TV, expecting to hear gunshots.
These are what we're protecting. Bean, the one we lost, is the dark brown one in the back...
Now, I didn't write this diary to get involved in the pie-fighting. It's a simple explanation and a bit of venting, too. So, please, no pie fights here, ok? Thanks.