Damn that Boogey Beast! It got into my chicken coop and killed three good laying hens last night! Earlier in the week I lost a rooster and a banty hen so I started locking the wooden door before I left for work in the afternoon. Normally the birds have a flight pen with a chicken coop inside the pen. The coop had a "doggy door" so they can come and go into the flight pen. The hole was small (6"x6") and so the chickens could put themselves up at night, but since the Boogey Beast had taken two birds this week, I decided that the birds were not putting themselves to bed earlier enough (either that, or they were getting up too early in the morning!). Either way, I thought I had solved the problem by shutting the doggy door and locking everyone in on my schedule.
Unfortunately the Boogey Beast (probably a raccoon) managed to force its way into the coop last night and the birds couldn't get out. The only consolation is that the 3 birds were eaten and not wasted. Now we must move the remaining birds out of this area TODAY and set them up with the cowponies and the cattle, until I can bring in something bigger and badder than the Boogey Beast.
Tomorrow I am going to pick up a new warrior in the battle against the Boogey Beast. Be forewarned, BEAST, just wait 'til she grows!
Look closely. Yes, that IS what you think. Farming isn't for the squeamish. Despite my efforts to fortify the chicken coop, the damned Beast was back. Three dead. It looks like chickens exploded in there. Ten birds in one week. Six birds in two days . . . and I still don't know how it's getting in.
That is the most disheartening part about life on a farm. Despite your best efforts, you cannot save them. After the carnage, I had one laying hen left, a small banty hen, and two banty roosters. Four birds . . . out of a whole flock. The remaining red hen was stuffed in Other Half's patrol car and transported to join the cowponies, the cattle, Dora the Explorer, and Reggie. They aren't necessarily safe, but they are 7 miles from THIS Boogey Beast, who will most certainly be back.
The refugee
The thing about being a crime scene investigator is that you tend to put a great deal of investigation into your own crime scenes. (I'll spare you the photos.) My two biggest issues are: 1) suspect, and 2) prevention.
Suspect: The Boogey Beast is small. BB is ferocious. BB is messy. BB may actually be several suspects. (a GANG!)
Because I had body parts all over the coop, I suspect a family of small predators, perhaps a mother with young that were squabbling over pieces. (Yes, I know it's gross, but unfortunately it is part of the Circle Of Life. It happens on a farm. Animal Planet just doesn't film it.)
Here is our suspect's pawprint:
I didn't have scale tape, so I stuck my fingers in there to give you an idea of size.
I'm thinking maybe a raccoon. I need to check out pawprints online and see about that. The Sheepgoddess has suggested a weasel. She may be right. I don't even know if we have those around here. I'll check that out too. (Isn't the internet wonderful?)
Now that we have done some research into the suspect, let's begin with prevention. First . . . remove the birds. Done. (Except for the banties who sought refuge high up in the trees.) Second . . . remove the predator. Impossible . . if I remove them, others will come to fill that niche. That leaves me only one option. I must bring in a warrior in my Battle Against the Boogey Beast.
For years I have resisted this, but if you start adding up how much money I have lost in livestock over the years, it doesn't make sense NOT to do it. Soooooo . . . . a 9-hour drive later . . . and there is a New Kid In Town!
Meet Briar!
Be careful. Those teeth are sharp. She's a killer. Boogey Beasts, BEWARE!
Briar is approximately 12 weeks old. She's a Great Pyrenees/Komondor cross. Her parents are working Livestock Guardian Dogs that have produced working Livestock Guardian Dogs. She has been raised with sheep and goats. In fact, she's a little wild thing. I should have named her Mowgli since she considers humans to be her captors, rather than her friends. We are slowly working on that. She needs some cleaning up, and some growing up, but Boogey Beasts beware! She will be the size of a Saint Bernard and she will eat Boogey Beasts for Breakfast!
You just wait! The Warrior has arrived!
Remember the Warner Brothers cartoon Ralph & Sam? It was the one with the sheepdog and the wolf (who always looked to me EXACTLY like Wile E. Coyote but with a different accent.) I googled them. Ralph was the wolf (coyote) and Sam was the sheepdog (Livestock Guardian Dog). They punched a time clock in the morning and then began their shift of either protecting sheep (Sam) or trying to eat the sheep (Ralph). At the end of the shift, they punched the time clock and then left "the office" together - to start again tomorrow in the endless game of predator & prey.
Border Collie and Livestock Guardian Dog remind me of Ralph and Sam. Border Collie is all about the hunt (minus the kill). Border Collies have been bred to be top-notch predators, minus the kill. All Border Collie thinks about is hunting livestock and making them submit to her will. There is not a loving, maternal, "look out for the stock" bone in her body. Lest I dare make the comparison, her attitude toward sheep is much like the dog in Babe. She believes sheep are stupid animals who must be forced to behave.
Briar, on the other hand, believes that sheep are her family, merely cousins with odd eating habits. (Every family has a few!) She is happy when she is with them and sad when they leave her to go to the pasture.
But she is too young to simply turn her loose with ewes and lambs. She may injure a lamb, or be attacked by a ewe. So for now, Briar is locked in an exercise pen inside the sheep area at night where they are all together, but no one can get hurt. During the day, I turn the sheep out and leave Briar in the barn where she can see the sheep and the other dogs. She is okay puttering around the barn, but would be happier with the sheep.
She needs to be cleaned up A LOT. Her puppy coat is matted. Today I began clipping. Despite the fact that yesterday the little Beast was snarling at me, today she is more submissive. I let her spend a bit of time with Zena, Retired Police Dog, who worships the ground I walk on. After a little bit of modeling, Briar was beginning to figure out that I was not the Evil Captor that she thought I was, and loosened up a bit. I left Police Dog (who is very maternal) in the barn while I popped Warrior Child on a stack of hay and started cutting. Police Dog climbed up on a bale of hay so she could supervise. Warrior Child chewed a straw of hay while I cut out mats. Yuck.
She doesn't have to be showdog clean, but the matts have GOT to GO! Her puppy coat will fall out in the spring, but in the mean time, her skin could use a break (and some air!)
We took a break and she met Border Collie.
Ralph & Sam
Remember this picture. When she grows up, I'll need it to remind me of how little she was at 12 weeks. Boogey Beasts Beware! Warrior Pup has arrived!
Today we decided to give Briar a little more freedom for a while. She has been spending about 22 hours a day, or more, with the sheep. For her protection, she has been separated by a pen from the ewes with lambs. The lambs like her; the ewes are more suspicious. I'm satisfied they won't kill her now, but I still don't want her to have a bad experience with them. (They obviously have overlooked the idea that it doesn't hurt to have big friends.)
She was delighted to be free with them. As soon as everyone fiinished breakfast, she settled down beside them while they grazed.
All went well until they decided to wander off and she got up to follow them.
As soon as she sat up, they decided she was no longer a sheep, but a FOOSA, a little predator.
"No, seriously, I'm a sheep. Listen. Baaaa!"
Mama Sheep is not fooled.
Briar slinks off.
"Nobody likes me . . . ."
She sees me standing on the fence.
"Ma, nobody likes me."
We discuss it.
And she is convinced to give it another shot.
Then we walked back out there together,
and she lay down with her sheep.
We are giving Briar longer and longer periods of free time with the sheep - always under supervision. Today I was glad I had my camera. I'm still laughing. She is approximately 13 weeks old.
Briar with her sheep.
I was leaning on the fence, just supervising, when I noticed Briar alert on something. Three lambs were in hot pursuit of a chicken - YES! The lambs were chasing Gerald the Rooster!
Hulk, the testosterone-ridden baby, was in the lead and he wasn't letting up. Briar was fascinated.
Then she decided to join the game.
The lambs stopped as Briar chased the intruder.
Gerald doubled back.
As soon as Gerald was away from the sheep, Briar stopped the chase. Now I ask you, how can I teach the dog that chasing chickens is wrong when the SHEEP are chasing the chickens??? I'll give her credit though. She didn't continue the chase once the rooster got away from the sheep. Good puppy. But all that running did work up a thirst.
"Sector 12 is clear!"
Other Half set out a game camera the other night. After much cussing and taking pictures of our boots, we got the sucker set and attached to the base of a tree. Things have been very busy with murder scenes and murder trials and so on and so forth, that we just now got around to checking the camera. In two days there were over 155 shots! That's a lot of traffic for an abandoned bird pen. Barn cat set it off quite a bit, but that's no surprise. I'm sure rats are still cleaning up bird feed. But guess what! . . . The camera finally captured the BEAST!
Since I watched the animated movie Madagascar, all predators on the farm are now referred to as FOOSAS! (I recently learned that there is actually a critter called a foosa, but it's spelled fossa. It lives in Madagascar and eats lemurs--well duh! That makes sense if you've seen the movie.) Anyway, I digress--the point IS all predators on my farm are referred to as Foosas.
If you're not a vegetarian, you're a foosa. The sheep are not foosas, except when the lambs are chasing the rooster. Gerald the Rooster might argue that lambs are foosas.
The Boogey Beast is definitely a FOOSA! Anything that can disassemble chickens like that critter can do is most certainly a foosa. Our question was purely academic. "What kind of foosa?"
So with the help of a game camera that was set to flash whenever the beam was tripped, we now have a pretty good idea of who visits at night. Here is a our Foosa . . .
. . . .
. . .
But now I've got a foosa too! You just wait Mr. Raccoon! You just wait!
And we are bowling for sheep!
Mom screams, "NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo!"
Briar drops to the ground. "I'm bad?"
"Awww man . . . I'm bad!"
This sheep is Roanie, the other ewe that was attacked by New Police Dog. Because Jamaica died and left Roanie alone in the hospital stall, we took the vet's advice to just throw Roanie out with the rest of the sheep. She must fend for herself at meal time and the long walk out on three legs is tough, but she seems MUCH happier. Today she met Briar for the first time. It was magical. This is clearly what this dog was bred to do. The ewe came from a ranch with Livestock Guardian Dogs and was originally born on the ranch where Briar was born. Instead of playing bumbly puppy games with her new sheep, Briar greeted her slowly.
Then she checked out the mangled back leg.
Then she kissed her.
Then the sheep laid her head on Briar's shoulder.
And they just stood there. 
She slips into the Magic Depths . . . 
SPLASH the STREAK!!!!
"Fastest thing on four feet!"
"What?!! Is that you, Ethel?"
"Where's George?"
