It was the middle of the night last week when I heard a commotion at the chicken coop.
The loud “peeping” from the younger chicks got me out of bed and running to the chicken coop in my bed clothes, with a flashlight.
On my arrival I saw our young white chick stuck half-way through the pen fencing. Not quite sure how the chick got itself in such a precarious position, I went into the pen and gently pulled it out of it’s trap. Other than being a little freaked out, the chick was fine.
Then I assessed the situation — CSI style with my flashlight. The young black chick was missing. Gone. Nowhere in sight. There were no signs of breaking and entering. No blood. No sign of struggle.
I went back to bed. After I locked up the other two young chicks in their little cage inside the pen.
The next day DIY Guy found a pile of black feathers near the pen. That’s all. Just the feathers. We figured that a raccoon was our criminal. The crafty critter had reached in through the fencing, grabbed the chick, then pulled it back through….took it a few feet from the pen and …went back for a second helping….the white chick. That’s when I showed up and saved it’s little life.
Many years ago DIY Guy wisely purchased a live trap.
We set it up near the coop, baiting it with dog food.
Next morning — trap moved, food gone. No raccoon.
It moved the wire trap to get to the food. At least it didn’t go for more chicken.
Second attempt. Stake the trap down with some rebar.
Mission accomplished.
When I told DIY Guy that we had a raccoon in the trap, he responded, “does it look embarrassed?”
I’m pretty sure it was embarrassed. And scared.
DIY Guy agreed it was scared.
Probably because it was about to take it’s first car ride.
In the trunk. About 8 miles or so from our house. I hope it was far enough. I just read that a raccoon can find its way back from up to 10 miles. Uggh.
I’m not so sure DIY Guy will be so compassionate next time.
DIY Guy was a little apprehensive about setting the live trap on Thursday night. Because we saw this guy creepin’ around the front yard at about 10:30 pm.
I think our only course of action would have been the .22 if we had found this one in the live trap.
Gabby didn’t get to go out that night.
P.S. I will be replacing the chick.