Unwelcome guest in the chicken coop
Posted: 19 Aug 2016 02:09
I took my 15 year Britney Spaniel for a walk this evening at 6PM. As we approached the chicken coop one of the old hens began to sound an alarm. Since I was going to home all day, I let the chickens out to forage. I can't do that when I'm not at home because of the predators. She never gets excite about Jasmine and I walking. So, I stop. A second later, all the chickens flush from the coop like a flock of wild turkeys. Something's up. I see a grey/brown blob jumping against the fence in the chicken's pen. I release the leash on Jas and rush to the gate. I close the gate. I see the blob running up the 6 foot fence poles trying to escape, but I have meshing over the top of the pen. I close the door to the coop. Jas is exactly where I left her. She old and senile, but we've hunted 1000's of hours together, she knew what to do--nothing, let Dad handle it.
I ran Jas to the house, unhooked her leash and ran to the truck to my 92 in .357 mag. It was in my truck because I had packed it up for a weekend of squirrel hunting with the guys. The 92 was not going to my squirrel hunting firearm, but a man should never leave the house without a .357 or 2.
By now I knew what the was--a bobcat. That's why I passed up other firearm to get the Rossi out of the truck. I have a goal to take all the KY game species with that rifle. A bobcat was figured to be the hardest of achieve.
I had 2 chicken disappear a month ago. One evening a few days after the disappearance I saw a bobcat jump behind the coop as I went down to lock them up for the night.
Rossi in hand, I run back to the coop fearing this cat would manage to break through the fence and be gone. It had not. It was still jumping up the post and crashing into the fence. Obstacles two: 2/3 of the pen area is grown up in 5 ft high weeds. Being the semi-lazy farmer that I am, I had not chopped them out. The chicken enjoy sitting in the shade of the weed and I think bugs are attracted to them, also, which make for happy chickens. I move to the corner of the weeded 2/3's of the pen to flush the kitty to the front open area. I'm still panting from my 100 yard dash to the truck and back. I take a couple breaths to calm myself. The kitty runs to the closed gate in attempts to escape.
Obstacle 2: I had flipped up my Marble peep sight with the medium aperture disc. While this works well on targets at 25 yards and deer at 50 yards, it really sucks on bobcats at -minus 15 yards.
Obstacle 3: I'm shooting at a 20 to 30 angle through chicken wire. I have faith in the .357 load with Remington 158 grain HP over 18 grains of LIL Gun. But, you never know how shooting through wire will effect a HP bullet.
The bobcat is standing at the gate. Through the little peep hole, I can make out what I think is brown fur, but I can't see enough of the cat to determine my bullet placement. I shoot. The bobcat turns and come back to the gate. Same situation. I shoot. The cat circle again but stops a few feet from the corner. I shoot a third time. Ms. Whiskers runs into the weeds, tries to run through the fence a couple times but does not climb up the poles. Then all is quiet.
I walk around the pen a couple of time trying to get her to move. Nothing. I access my shooting. The first two of the three shot I took looking through a small peep hole, shooting at a brown patch hit a sycamore tree that I had mistaken as the bobcat. The third shot tore an 1 1/2 hole in the tin around the bottom of the tin around my coop. That seemed a bit large to me. But, I saw no blood or hair standing from the outside of the pen. I had no real desire to go inside with the cat.
I circled, howled and barked, but not movement. So I started "looking" for her in the weeds. I started on the high side of the fence. I would look as deeply as I could in a crouched position then move 2 feet left and do it again. When I was 1/2 through the backside of the fence I saw furry brown 4 ft from the fence but in deep cover. As I was trying to figure out what I was seeing the cat moved deeper into the thicket. Dang a missed opportunity.
Now I'm thinking one of two things are happening: either the cat is to exhausted to move or it's hit. I go to the house for a 10 ft piece of 1" PVC pipe to try to "beat the bush". It doesn't work the cat will not move. On my second circle of the pushing the pipe through the fence I feel a thud then resistance. The cat grabbed the pipe. But,she didn't move. I'm thinking I have a hit, but I no idea if it's fatal.
The cat isn't moving with pressure, so I doubt she'll move if I try to wait her out. I go to the house for a beer then call my long time hunting partner, Brian for advice and moral support. While I'm on the phone with him I'm circling the pen, peering through the weeds as far as my old eyes let me. I see what looks like cherry tomato in the same spot where I jumped the cat previously. The bobcat jumps up again from the same spot. I'm telling Brian all this as it unfolds. His suggestion is, "Stop thinking and shoot." I say, you're right I'll call you back when I get Ms. Whiskers.
I go back up hill of the coop and sit down to contemplate the problem. OK what do I know? The cat isn't moving because she's been hit. And, for some reason, she likes to bed down in the same spot. I had a couple more sips of beer and plotted me strategy. I would use the PVC pipe on the high end side of the pen to push her lower into her "comfortable" zone then stalk the lower section.
When I got to the exact same place where I had seen her before, I see brown fur. Taking Brian's advise I just shot at the brown. Not knowing which end was which, I hit her square in the pelvic bone. She set up and roared like a lion. She was facing away from me and I knew which end was which. I put the next bullet square between her shoulders and it was over.
My third shot at the gate hit low, taking out her hind leg at the knee and the opposite front leg just below the knee.
I'M SORRY GIRL THAT I DIDN'T MAKE A CLEAN KILL ON THE FIRST HIT. May your spirit be at rest. I sprinkled tobacco over her remains.
I ran Jas to the house, unhooked her leash and ran to the truck to my 92 in .357 mag. It was in my truck because I had packed it up for a weekend of squirrel hunting with the guys. The 92 was not going to my squirrel hunting firearm, but a man should never leave the house without a .357 or 2.
By now I knew what the was--a bobcat. That's why I passed up other firearm to get the Rossi out of the truck. I have a goal to take all the KY game species with that rifle. A bobcat was figured to be the hardest of achieve.
I had 2 chicken disappear a month ago. One evening a few days after the disappearance I saw a bobcat jump behind the coop as I went down to lock them up for the night.
Rossi in hand, I run back to the coop fearing this cat would manage to break through the fence and be gone. It had not. It was still jumping up the post and crashing into the fence. Obstacles two: 2/3 of the pen area is grown up in 5 ft high weeds. Being the semi-lazy farmer that I am, I had not chopped them out. The chicken enjoy sitting in the shade of the weed and I think bugs are attracted to them, also, which make for happy chickens. I move to the corner of the weeded 2/3's of the pen to flush the kitty to the front open area. I'm still panting from my 100 yard dash to the truck and back. I take a couple breaths to calm myself. The kitty runs to the closed gate in attempts to escape.
Obstacle 2: I had flipped up my Marble peep sight with the medium aperture disc. While this works well on targets at 25 yards and deer at 50 yards, it really sucks on bobcats at -minus 15 yards.
Obstacle 3: I'm shooting at a 20 to 30 angle through chicken wire. I have faith in the .357 load with Remington 158 grain HP over 18 grains of LIL Gun. But, you never know how shooting through wire will effect a HP bullet.
The bobcat is standing at the gate. Through the little peep hole, I can make out what I think is brown fur, but I can't see enough of the cat to determine my bullet placement. I shoot. The bobcat turns and come back to the gate. Same situation. I shoot. The cat circle again but stops a few feet from the corner. I shoot a third time. Ms. Whiskers runs into the weeds, tries to run through the fence a couple times but does not climb up the poles. Then all is quiet.
I walk around the pen a couple of time trying to get her to move. Nothing. I access my shooting. The first two of the three shot I took looking through a small peep hole, shooting at a brown patch hit a sycamore tree that I had mistaken as the bobcat. The third shot tore an 1 1/2 hole in the tin around the bottom of the tin around my coop. That seemed a bit large to me. But, I saw no blood or hair standing from the outside of the pen. I had no real desire to go inside with the cat.
I circled, howled and barked, but not movement. So I started "looking" for her in the weeds. I started on the high side of the fence. I would look as deeply as I could in a crouched position then move 2 feet left and do it again. When I was 1/2 through the backside of the fence I saw furry brown 4 ft from the fence but in deep cover. As I was trying to figure out what I was seeing the cat moved deeper into the thicket. Dang a missed opportunity.
Now I'm thinking one of two things are happening: either the cat is to exhausted to move or it's hit. I go to the house for a 10 ft piece of 1" PVC pipe to try to "beat the bush". It doesn't work the cat will not move. On my second circle of the pushing the pipe through the fence I feel a thud then resistance. The cat grabbed the pipe. But,she didn't move. I'm thinking I have a hit, but I no idea if it's fatal.
The cat isn't moving with pressure, so I doubt she'll move if I try to wait her out. I go to the house for a beer then call my long time hunting partner, Brian for advice and moral support. While I'm on the phone with him I'm circling the pen, peering through the weeds as far as my old eyes let me. I see what looks like cherry tomato in the same spot where I jumped the cat previously. The bobcat jumps up again from the same spot. I'm telling Brian all this as it unfolds. His suggestion is, "Stop thinking and shoot." I say, you're right I'll call you back when I get Ms. Whiskers.
I go back up hill of the coop and sit down to contemplate the problem. OK what do I know? The cat isn't moving because she's been hit. And, for some reason, she likes to bed down in the same spot. I had a couple more sips of beer and plotted me strategy. I would use the PVC pipe on the high end side of the pen to push her lower into her "comfortable" zone then stalk the lower section.
When I got to the exact same place where I had seen her before, I see brown fur. Taking Brian's advise I just shot at the brown. Not knowing which end was which, I hit her square in the pelvic bone. She set up and roared like a lion. She was facing away from me and I knew which end was which. I put the next bullet square between her shoulders and it was over.
My third shot at the gate hit low, taking out her hind leg at the knee and the opposite front leg just below the knee.
I'M SORRY GIRL THAT I DIDN'T MAKE A CLEAN KILL ON THE FIRST HIT. May your spirit be at rest. I sprinkled tobacco over her remains.