By Edna Ferguson – Victoria, B.C.
It was morning on my grandfather’s farm. There wasn’t the usual happy chatter at the breakfast table. The wind had been blowing for two days straight and although it had eased up some, the air was thick with dust.
It was seeding time and my uncle decided that, in spite of the conditions, he would harness the horses and take to the field with the seeder. He wasn’t too happy with the weather, but one couldn’t wait for the weatherman when you were a farmer with jobs to be done.
When he came in for lunch he said he had seen a coyote loping around in the field, but nothing more was said about it. The workday eventually ended and soon enough, everyone was off to bed. I was awoken by the sound of uncle roaring down the stairs. He was complaining bitterly with some choice words!
“I’ll bet it’s that dang coyote I saw today in the field. I’m taking my gun,” he said, as the door banged behind him. There was a terrible commotion going on in the chicken house. What a noise of squawking hens! It was still dark outside and although I was young, I knew what was going on. Then, I heard a shot.
Night marauder slipped away
Uncle soon came back “mad as a wet hen”. The wind had somehow blown the door to the chicken house wide open, giving the coyote an easy entrance. He said he shot in the direction the coyote (with chicken in its mouth) was running, but he only gave the coyote a scare. It had disappeared into the darkness.
The next morning we went to see the damage in the chicken house. What a mess! There were feathers all over the place. Two injured hens were hiding in the corner and an indignant rooster was giving us the eye. If I remember correctly, we only gathered two eggs that day. I guess the hens were still recovering from the visit of the night marauder.
Uncle must have scared the coyote good, because he was never seen again. A new and safer door was installed on the chicken yard and by the next day things were almost back to normal.
Even the wind took a day off from blowing the dust and auntie’s wash was hanging dust-free and motionless on the clothesline in the warm sun.
