October Quietude, Dead Bugs and Old Roosters

The rains during the past couple of weeks combined with the break in the heat wave hasn’t bumped the Great Speckled Bird back into what must have been a spry, active youth as I’d hoped it might.  [The Great Speckled Bird: Respecting our Betters] [The Liar: The Great Speckled Bird, Part 2

From the inside of Night Fortress 2 there’s a step up through the exit hole and he’s having a lot of difficulty with it because of his crippled leg and wing.

Those chains, incidently, are part of an ongoing war with generations of Brother Coon trying to dig into the fortress at night.  The links where they meet the ground have treble-hooks wired to them to discourage digging there, but it’s a labor intensive game.  They’re the first line of defense.  Under the wood chips they’re on the holes are stuffed with prickly pear cactus, then covered with wood chips.  Brother Coon eventually gets past them all and insists on my going to the next level of debate:  The Lost Coon Diggings

Even the largest hen doesn’t have a problem with it.  But after the hens are all out harvesting the night carcasses under the bug-light he’ll still be in there crowing, evidently dreading the prospect of fighting his way through that opening.

I load the chicken drinking water up with home-made colloidal silver, catch him and soak his legs in orange-peel tincture, and it all seems to help, but gradually GSB’s hard living before I got him’s coming home to roost.

Usually GSB doesn’t indulge in cliche, but maybe his mind’s going, too.  Lately I’ve heard him say more than once, “If I’d known I was going to live this long I’d have taken better care of myself.”

If he keeps doing that I might be tempted to chop off his head.

C. W. McCall “Wolf Creek Pass”


4 responses to “October Quietude, Dead Bugs and Old Roosters

  1. I recall the chicken coop coon-blocking strategies of others. A favorite was burying chicken wire a foot down, then placing large stones on top of the dirt, maybe two or three rows out from the footing. I believe the proper military abbreviation for such stones was “BFR” — Big Freaking Rock.

  2. Morning Ed. Hope all’s going well up your way. Actually I thought I’d covered the problem with the diggers except skunks when I built the fortress. The soil there’s only a couple of inches deep with weathered limestone and caliche hardpan. I trenched down to it as a base for the corner posts [no holes – they’re standing atop it, supported and held upright by craziness, wit and imagination] – and put the wall bottoms as deeply into the trenches as I could get them.

    Good idea you’ve offered though. Thanks. Maybe if I ever build another chicken fortress I’ll incorporate the idea. Gracias, Jules

  3. Yo there Jules – good stuff. We have coons but no chickens. When man is gone there’s still gonna be coons. They’re everywhere. Chickens are fun.

    • Hi amigo. Smart critters, coons, and determined not to be influenced by reasoned arguments in their quests. Aside from feral swine there mightn’t be a common chunk of the wildlife kingdom capable of more distruction in a single night than Brother Coon. If one ever gets into the fortress it’s likely to kill the whole flock. But the cactus and treble hooks do offer a deterrent to some degree. Thanks for coming by. Hope the stress of the move’s gone south a bit for you. Gracias, Jules

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s