Skye Goes Home

 

                       Many years ago, a family a distance from here was evicted from their home, and for some reason, they left their dog, who was running free, on their property.  I mentioned to my husband that the dog remained there, and he told me that I could not pick it up and bring it to the farm. We already had enough.  He agreed to my stopping there to provide water for it, and then later, he agreed to my providing food for it. The dog stood guard at the house for more than a week, and I notified the animal control people who had hoped the family would be back for the dog.

                       A couple of weeks in to this arrangement, I came home, and when I opened the gate to the farm, the dog had followed me. She ran in to our farm gate. I drove in and closed it.  Well, I didn't take the dog, I thought.  The dog came here of her own accord. My husband couldn't  disagree.  I notified animal control and they offered to pay for her adoption by us, and for her being spayed.

                       We called her Skye, and the dog set out to learn what it was she could do on the farm to earn her keep. Mind you, we did not ask her to do this, but at the time, we did have a number of aging dogs who were having trouble keeping up with herding, patrols, and watchdog duties.  She got along with every dog we had here, male or female, and was content either to do the work alone, or to work in tandem with another.  First, we trained her to be a watchdog, and she did that extremely well.   Then, she was assigned to alpaca supervision and patrols, which she did very well. We never taught her to do this, but she instinctively herded sheep.

                      The one task she did that horrified us was that she located and attacked and killed copperhead snakes.  Her first series of multiple bites occurred in 2014 and is included in detail at the link at the bottom of the post.  She had chosen to take on this dangerous work, and it almost killed her in 2014.   Several years later, she did the same thing again, but this time, she had only one bite, we treated it, and she managed to come through more quickly. The farm vet warned us that although she had recovered both times, that she may have subtle neurological defects now and that she might not live a normal life expectancy.

                      Skye has continued to work on the farm. The original elderly dogs who were here when she joined us died some time ago.  Skye takes her place as the experienced but sweet older girl who still gets along with all of the other dogs. She is especially fond of another Border Collie who joined us a year ago. His coloring is different from hers, but she recognized him as "a son" of hers.

                     The farm vet and I have a running joke about the dogs and livestock here living longer than they do elsewhere. About two weeks ago, Skye seemed to be slowing down. Normally, a maximum lifespan for a Border Collie is about 14.  Skye is 17 years old now !   Despite the fact that our kennel is well shaded and has fans, I decided to bring her in during the hottest parts of the day so she could have the benefit of some air conditioning. Elderly dogs tolerate extreme heat less well, and also keeping her near us allows us to see if there is anything else that we need to do in terms of her comfort and in terms of conservative veterinary intervention.  I think she appreciated her time inside, but she was anxious to get back to the other dogs. One the 23rd she was still drinking but her appetite was off.  On the 24th she just wanted to rest and we checked her often. She passed comfortably and quietly at 5 pm.

                 Skye's farm funeral occurred the following day on a hill where one can see the barn.  As she was buried I could not help but realize that other than trips we took occasionally to the vet, she had not left this farm from the day that she entered it when I opened the gate that day.

                Thank you, God, for the gift of the life of this remarkable, loyal, sweet dog.  No matter how long they spend here with us, it never quite seems to be enough.

                 Skye joins my father, and my sons Daniel and Matthew, and a host of other beloved animals we have had over the years. They will take care of her until I rejoin them all.   Goodnight, Skye.

https://lifeaftertherescues.blogspot.com/2014/07/copperhead-snake-bites-in-dogs.html

The Tale of the Triplet Deer

          

                                                        How this triplet was first found.

                   There are many little miracles on a farm if you stop to watch the events of the animals who live there, including the animals who are normally considered wild.   One of this year's miracles is that one of the does that grazes along the grassy areas of the farm had triplets. We knew this could happen, but we'd never seen in here.  There are a lot of deer this year, and I realize that they must be hunted otherwise after such a large number being born this year, there will be starvation and disease this Winter.  Still, I said a prayer for the doe and her precious three fawns.  All three were identically specked with white, and stayed close to their mother. Each evening, they would come to the back yard of the farm, which is encircled by thick forest, and they would graze.  I would either cook or do dishes at the kitchen window while watching them.  

                    If the bears aren't here, I occasionally feed the deer and the birds, and probably for this reason, the deer don't fear me. Occasionally, they come close, and although I don't touch them, I do note their markings and general condition.  The mother doe and the triplets looked healthy through Summer.  As the Autumn began, the triplets began spending more and more time away from each other, and away from their mother.

                   I have known that with the large number of deer I have seen this year at the side of the country roads and on the highway, that it would be a difficult year for deer.  When there are large numbers, some of them actually will jump into cars, and people have been killed when a buck, or even a doe jumps into a driver's side window. We all need to slow down around deer, but occasionally an accident occurs that isn't the fault of the driver.

                    I ran some short errands today off the farm and returned this afternoon. On my return,  I saw a new model car I didn't recognize, parked outside the farm gate. I parked beyond his car and got out, because I couldn't have driven to the gate.  The man explained that as he was driving by a young deer crossing the road on it's way back to my farm had struck his car.  A small deer, clearly within our property lines, lay on the ground, on her side, with rapid respirations.  The man was truly upset, and he said he'd called the sheriff's office for animal control.  He had hoped that they could help her.   I walked near her quietly, and despite the fact that the white speckles had mostly faded, she was most certainly one of the triplets.  The man thought she was badly injured, but at first I wasn't so sure. Other than the rapid respirations and one leg being in an unusual position, I thought a closed fracture was possible. She also was still alive fifteen minutes later with lower respirations which I thought was a good sign.  I called the sheriff's office to see when animal control expected to arrive. I also opened the farm gate, in case she was well enough to get up and run to what we had considered her home.

                    All at once, she got up, took a few steps and collapsed on the opposite side to which she had been lying. When she collapsed. I could see multiple abrasions on the side on which she had hit the car, but I also saw bright blood seeping from the interior of a back leg.  She could stand, but she could not run.  Most likely, she had a fracture.  The man who'd hit her was upset.  I told him that the deer don't watch the road well, and that this happens sometimes, no matter how careful you are.  I also told him that in our area we have state certified wildlife rehabilitators, and that since wildlife is the property of the Commonwealth in our state, only licensed wildlife rehabilitators are permitted to care for them. Most of them specialize in specific animals, some squirrels, some deal with birds, and others with deer. There is even a rehabilitation center for bears.  He was from out of state and seemed a little bit relieved.

                    Then a deputy sheriff arrived. He took some information from the man who'd hit her and then released him to go home, as he was leaving for his home state this evening.   The deputy sheriff told us that he would remain with us until animal control arrived.  By that time, my husband had arrived, and since I had called him, he drove very slowly so as not to frighten the poor deer.  By then, she was still alive, but her respirations had increased again and she sounded as if she had fluid and significant congestion in her lungs. This of course, suggested a much more grave prognosis.  I told the sheriff I wished to give her a chance to make it to a wildlife rehabilitator, but even as I said it, I could see her condition deteriorating.   He told me that in addition to being a deputy sheriff that he was also a hunter.  He thought that she was suffering and he offered to shoot her in order to euthanize her.  I would have preferred to take her to my barn, administered an injectable antibiotic, established a saline iv line with pediatric tubing, administered a newborn alpaca dose of NSAID,  splinted her fractured leg while waiting for the farm vet.  Of course, on wildlife in this state, none of that would have been legal, and I didn't even know if it would have been fair to this poor creature, and so I said a quick prayer over her, and I stood a few feet away for as long as it took for the officer to euthanize her with one loud shot. 

                      We probably should have buried her here, but I don't think where the animals spend eternity is impacted by their burial spot, and so we have the deputy a thick industrial style trash bag and he took her with him in his sheriff's SUV.    I have not seen her siblings or any other deer since.

                       I will admit to being deeply saddened over this, although I understand that the circle of life is the way of this world.  I hope she was comforted by the soft speech of the lady who enjoyed her presence as she grazed each evening.  Thank you to the deputy who was as concerned for her and who helped us make what I think in the end was the best choice for her.

                       I still have tears.

To the Brightest Sheep Ever.........Tesla

                  

                 Those of you who are regular readers of this blog will recall that in July of 2014, we became the lucky recipients of two gorgeous brown sheep. We named the mother sheep Sheila, and her young son Tesla.  We were able to get these rather valuable sheep rather inexpensively because they were frankly, too bright to be ordinary sheep.  The two of them frequently escaped from their original farm. In fact, I once found flockmembers of theirs on the country road and secured them with dog leashes and brought them home.  Eventually, the original farmer was happy to let them go because "sheep too bright to be sheep" tend to lead the rest of the flock away from the farm and into trouble.

                 When we brought them home, we knew they could not be housed together, but although they were housed separately, they liked to see one another from different pens. They got along well with dogs, horses, and most especially with alpacas.  Tesla was  named for the scientist Tesla, and not for the car or the business that followed.

                  So much life has happened since 2014.  Our animals grew, our family grew, we started a new business.  Sometime,s it seems that animals move through their own lives at break neck speed.

                   In 2020, at about maximum lifespan, Sheila came in to the barn, lay on her side, and passed quite quickly. This is always sorrowful even when they live a life of a length that is expected.  Tesla was initially quite concerned, but adapted once we put him in with an alpaca at night.  Cammie the alpaca seemed to think he was her baby, and he seemed to enjoy the attention.

 

 

                      Although we never had any of the escape behaviors seen at the prior farm, we did have one problem with Tesla.  If you were facing him you had no problem, but if you turned your back on him, he would occasionally head butt a human being, usually in the back of the knees !   We explained how painful this was, and how undesirable, and as he aged, it didn't seem to happen as much.

                        

                    This year we realized that Tesla was probably a bit more than ten years old.  We noticed that he wasn't moving as well as he had been.  Although his hooves were healthy, he seemed to have some crepitus in his hips.  We also noticed that one cornea was beginning to cloud, and that he likely had an evolving cataract.  This can now be treated in some animals with a particular eye drop, so we planned to watch it.  Tesla began to slow down and have difficulty grazing and being active in May.  We gave him some extra attention, and made sure that he was brought in and secured in a room in the barn with an alpaca at night.  We also made some changes in his food as his appetite was less consistent than it had been.  Tesla also got a shorter haircut this year because elderly animals do not tolerate extreme summer heat.  By July he needed to be reminded to eat, and reminded to drink.  We would change the water numerous times through the day because he would only drink very cool water.

                     Despite the fact that my husband worked tirelessly to keep Tesla comfortable, exercised, fed, grazed and loved, this week he remained in a room of the barn under two fans while lying on the cool clean smooth concrete floor of the barn.  We knew that our time with our brilliant sheep was drawing to a close.  Cammie the alpaca lay beside him most evenings. The barn cat, Albinus, sat beside him as if it were something the king of the barn would do.  We played the radio his his room softly during the days and some nights.  Tesla passed at 9:44 pm last evening with my husband, Cammie, and Albinus in attendance.  The horses were quiet as they knew what was going on on the other side of the barn.  I was sad not to have been present when he passed, but I had been there a few minutes earlier, and told him how loved he was, and that it was alright to go to his mother, and his siblings.  No matter how long they live, it never gets easier.

                   Tesla will be buried here on the farm.  If you ever wonder about the personality of the sheep, there is a delightful children's DVD series from England called Shawn the Sheep, that we acquired some time after Sheila and Tesla joined us.  We were surprised sometimes as to how much Shawn was like Tesla.

Tesla, we love you, and you will be missed. We will make sure Cammie has a new companion, though a miniature horse seems to be most interested in joining her at the moment.  Somehow we are lesser humans now that we are sheepless.

                

 

 

 

After Fifteen Years, Daniel Finally Gets His Cat

               

                                      Tosh as a kitten

 

 

      As announced on another one of my blogs, dear Tosh, Daniel's cat passed at 6:36 am today.

 This dear creature will be sorely missed.  The story of his life is at this link and at links at the bottom of this link's page.

https://learnedfromdaniel.blogspot.com/2023/05/daniel-finally-gets-his-cat.html

 

 

 

Skye Cheats Death, Yet Again

                    

      This is the actual dead copperhead snake. It is of moderate size and is an adult.

         This muscular snake shows evidence of having had a recent meal.

As regular readers of my blogs may know, we have a border collie named Skye who patrols certain forested areas of the farm, and then returns to the other animals. She can be described as a bit of an eager beaver.  Perhaps she still remembers being a rescue and feels she needs to earn her keep, although she became a family member with a full retirement plan here, long ago.

               On the 18th, Skye performed her normal patrol and on return to the barn area, she carried a moderately sized adult copperhead snake.  My husband asked her to put it down so that he could ensure that it was dead.  Next, he examined Skye who had a clear bite mark on her muzzle that was continuously dripping blood.  He called my cellular phone and I quickly came down to the barn with the the correct dose of liquid diphenhydramine and an injection of broad spectrum antibiotic, appropriate for a canine of this weight. When I saw her and gave those, I also assessed her for pain and for whether any swelling endangered her airway. I also had epinephrine with me, although in all honesty, I would have had to have called to ask the vet the appropriate canine dose, because off the top of my head, I don't remember.  It was only when I had done those things, I notified the vet of what had happened and the treatment we had provided.  We were to continue the diphenhydramine liquid in the dose we had used every 6 hours for 24 hours, and then every eight hours until today, when she would be assessed by a vet.

               How did we know HOW to treat a copperhead snake bite in a dog ?   Because nine years ago, in July, the very same dog was attacked by a large copperhead in the fenced area just outside her kennel room. That time, her head swelled to more than twice its normal size and she was drooling as well as bleeding. 

              I hope this is the last time we encounter a copperhead bite, but it's likely not to be.  This farm is surrounded by acres and acres of thick forest and is an ideal habitat for them.  Sometimes, they leave the forest and come to the cleared area, probably seeking food.

              This is also the last year under federal law, in which farmers may purchase injectable antibiotics to have on hand on their farms for a variety of species of animals.  In future, I will need to ask the vet to provide a prescription for these items with directions for treatment of various animal species.

               I am also considering having the trees around the kennel cleared except for the large oaks which provide dogs shade.  I am also going to ask the farm vet whether snake repellent of any type might help keep the copperheads away from the kennel where they are a hazard to the dogs and to us.

              This is also a danger to the horses, who could suffocate if bitten by a copperhead on the muzzle.  In the past, the black snakes here ate the copperheads, but this does not seem to be happening as much as it once did.

               Because human beings have a much more complex neurological system, a copperhead bite requires immediate expert medical care often including antivenin.  A few years ago, a number of people in surrounding counties were bitten by copperheads while walking on their decks or gardening, and a few of them logged time in an ICU.   Fortunately for us, dogs have less complex neurological systems and according to our vet, have a better record of recovery without copperhead antivenin than with it, and so both times, we were fortunate enough that she has recovered.  A smaller dog, or perhaps an elderly or very young dog would not be so lucky.

This is my prior blog post from another one of my blogs,(https://rationalpreparedness.blogspot.com ) concerning Skye's prior copperhead bites, nine years ago.

 

https://rationalpreparedness.blogspot.com/2014/07/important-information-in-canine.html/2014/07/important-information-in-canine.html

More info at:

 

 http://lifeaftertherescues.blogspot.com/2014/07/copperhead-snake-bites-in-dogs.html

 

 

The Story of Brielle

 

                                                                         Brielle

            About fourteen years ago, a family restaurant opened in our very rural neck of the woods. Their specialty was barbecue sandwiches, but they had a broad menu, and our kids loved to eat there.  This was within about the year after our son Daniel had died, and I was making great efforts to do things as a family as I knew a couple of the kids had been having a hard time, and needed to get off the farm and have some family time. This also helped a bit because there had been a family restaurant there prior to this one, and Daniel had come with us, so it felt comfortable to be in the same building with the family.  In addition to the barbecue, the present restaurant made fantastic burgers and homemade coleslaw.  The coleslaw was so fantastic, I used to place some of it on my burger.  For a time, we tried to eat there about once a week, and our kids came to know the menu by heart.

             In addition to serving the farmers, the farm families, the occasional home  builder, and providing a place to have a date night for local couples, the restaurant owner also fed some feral cats who hung around the dumpster at the restaurant. You couldn't blame them. Even the cats knew that it was the best food for many miles.

              It was tough for the owner to prepare such a large menu and to procure and then prepare a lot of the food each week. We learned that he chose and picked up most of the food he used at the Sam's Club which was about fifty minutes from there. He loved what he was doing, but he soon found that he had no time for anything else.  Eventually, he and one of the waitresses decided to get married. He decided that he wished to close the restaurant and try something new.

               Of course,  we were disappointed,  but we understood.  By then, he had already agreed to let us bring one of the cats home because he had not had time to take her to a vet, and we'd had concerns about her.  My eldest son named her Brielle.  In the weeks that followed, before the restaurant closed, other people took each of the cats, mostly for their barns, and so none of them would starve when the restaurant closed.

               Brielle was a smaller cat that most. She had medium long hair and a strange meow. The vet thought she might have suffered some significant nutritional deprivation as a kitten and that she may have some neurological issues.  For a semi-feral cat, she was a strange one. She was a picky eater, and was often demanding. If a human petted her, she didn't like him to go, and she would knead your lap, arm or anything else while sinking her claws into the legs of your jeans. She also drooled pretty profusely when she was petted. She also didn't drink a lot of water unless you gave her a really large water dish, the kind you might give to a German Shepherd. It was as if she intended to conserve water unless she knew she had a large supply.

              We had a large two story garage/art studio built on the farm, in part, to provide a place for our eldest son, who was studying at the university to become a sculptor, a place to work. When the rooms were completed, and the welding machines moved in, Brielle didn't want to be anywhere else.  She especially liked doing what looked like cat ballet on the large beams within the building. The building had lots of nooks and crannies and she would explore the building for hours. At night, after she was fed, we would close her into the office which stayed warm, and had food and water for her. During Winter, we placed a heated mat under her cat bed. We even had a painting of a cat, that looked like her, up in the office.

               When our son was working in the building, he often opened one of the garage styled doors, and out she would go. She enjoyed walks in the forest and usually returned at dusk when he would lock up the building, and leave a light on in one of the rooms.  Brielle had the strange habit of stalking much larger animals. There were often deer at the edge of the forest grazing near the building, and she would size them up as if preparing for a take down.  Once, our eldest son saw her in a fight with one of the ravens that lives on the farm. Brielle was hurt during this interaction and had to have the vet remove one of her long canine teeth from one side of her mouth, which had been broken and seemed to be infecting. She eventually healed, but was more careful with groundhogs and other animals afterward.

               When our eldest son got married and left the farm, Brielle had to adapt to life without his working there. Since there was a no pet policy where he and his wife were living, she could not come with him. In some ways, remaining where she was familiar and had lots of space may actually have been better. She saw him occasionally when he returned to work there occasionally, or to pick up something he'd left there, or used rarely.  The rest of us tried to make up the difference by visiting often, and by opening the building so she could wander on days when we might be out with the horses or other animals. She liked being a part of the action.   She even adapted and came to terms with another semi-feral cat, Albinus who came to live in the barn with the horses. He liked Brielle, but she had to be convinced that he was a worthy overseer of another part of the farm.

                As Brielle aged, she became thinner and we were concerned that we could not monitor her food and water intake with her being in the art studio, and so during Winter, we brought her up to stay in our eldest son's bedroom. At first, she was delighted. It was nice and warm, and surely he would return with his wife, since his bed was made and his bookcase was full and his furniture was there. Sometimes he did, and over the next five years, he told her about the new little daughter he and his wife had, and then a couple of years later, about the new baby son. Brielle met them a couple of times, but they seemed to move a little too quickly for her liking.

                I still let her dance in the rafters in the art studio sometimes during good weather, but in the last year or so, she became more content to remain in our eldest son's room, and receive visits from the rest of us. Sometimes, I would open the window and she would sit by the screen enjoying the sun. Sometimes I would let her play outside, and often, she and I would go for a walk with a light leash.  Last year, during one wandering episode, she became lost and a neighbor called us to pick her up. We knew that her days of wandering alone safely were over.

                Matthew, also one of our sons died suddenly in November not long after he had turned 32. Although Matthew had not been her human, she took this hard. We had to work to get her to eat and drink, and I spent a lot of time with her. It was almost as if she had decided to go with him.

                 Consultations with the vet yielded that she had been experiencing urinary tract infections and hematuria. This was treated for a time and she seemed to improve. We did this for several months and then one day, three months to the day after Matthew's passing, Brielle refused to eat or drink. She lay peacefully on her bed, which I moved to our eldest son's bed.  I spent the day with her, and our grandson was also in attendance.  That evening, after he went home, she peacefully went to sleep with my sitting beside her.

                  Even when a beloved cat lives a decent lifespan, their loss is sad and difficult. She was an important fixture and personality here for so long.  My hope is that she located Matthew and Daniel in Heaven and that they are caring for her now.  Thank you for being our cat, Brielle.  I wouldn't have missed it for anything.  We will always remember you, and we will always love you.

 

             

The Long Life of Zelina

      

 

    Just after our son Daniel died, a friend of my daughter's gave a gift of two black Labrador puppies. He thought that puppies full of so much energy and love would help her, and the rest of us, through such a difficult chapter in our lives. One was male, and one was female and so our daughter named them Sebastian and Zelina. Since our daughter was a senior in college at the time, I had to pinch hit quite a bit with their toilet training, feeding, vet visits, and then their visits to the vet for spaying and for neutering.  I didn't really mind because they were dear puppies, and because our black lab/Weimaraner mix Mark was elderly and was dying, and because it almost seemed to me that these puppies were here to ease the pain of Mark's impending passage.  Mark passed quietly not too many weeks after he was introduced to the pups. It was as if he too, knew we would be in good hands.

              Sebastian and Zelina enjoyed life on the farm with alpacas, horses, chickens, guineas, cats, and managed to dodge the copperhead snakes.  They enjoyed water, running, and the other dogs we had here. I can never remember their being inflexible or difficult with any other animal.  Time on our farm surrounded by forests passed quickly as it always does.   Our daughter bought a home in the same rural place, but works a great deal and so she thought that Sebastian and Zelina should stay here where they were well adapted. Before long, our daughter had a new baby and her hands were full, and so we were glad the two black labs had remained here with our other dogs.

               In May, 2015 it was hotter than usual and humid a bit more early than it usually is.  One morning I found Sebastian lying outside the kennel,  He was febrile. Long story short, the vet believed that he likely had Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, and so she started doxycycline.  I was actually more concerned than I would be for a lot of illnesses, because he seemed truly frightened and possibly in pain. It looked to me as if we had recognized his illness too late and started him on medication too late in the course of the illness.  I told Sebastian that if he were to die, that I would take good care of his sister Zelina for the rest of her life.  He took me up on that, and died rather quickly that morning, never responding to the doxycycline.

              Zelina had been tightly bonded to her litter mate, but had no choice but to make friends with the other dogs we had here. She was easy going, pleasant and kind, and we were pleased that her life continued long after her brother's had ended.

              This summer I realized that Zelina was thirteen years old, which is a pretty good age for a large dog. She had no discomfort with regard to her joints or paws which is so often a problem with aged large dogs. Her hips seemed fine.  Usually, we start them on glucosamine and chondroitin, but she was still jumping and running well without discomfort. I did notice that she was thinner this spring than is desirable, and so she was wormed as per our farm's protocol.  I also noticed that her gums looked sore, and so I gently brushed her teeth and gums using a diluted .15% solution of chlorhexidine gluconate, which made quite a difference. I decided to watch those gums in the future and perhaps brush the gums more often.  Zelina also began to get gray hair on her face, which I have seen on these dogs, often in the last year of their lives.  I resolved to spend more time with her, and tell her more often how lucky we had been to have her as a gift.   We feed our elderly dogs twice daily here, and so, this afternoon when my husband went to feed the older dogs we found her. Zelina had walked in from the outside to her indoor kennel, and collapsed and died when she was about halfway on her bed. Her eyes were open and judging from the absence of rigor, she had not been dead long. I suspect she had a myocardial infarction at about age thirteen and a half.

             For a large labrador, thirteen and a half is not a bad run, although I am still very upset.  Each of the animals here brings us joy, but they also mark the fact that time is passing quickly.  Our children have grown and there are little grandchildren who visit the farm now.  I am comforted by the fact that Zelina will see Sebastian and the other friends she had while she was here, but I am saddened by the passage of a loving and dear canine friend who was happy to see me whether I was feeding her, or gently brushing her teeth and then gently squirting her gums with nasty tasting mouthwash.

               I'll miss you Zelina, and so will the rest of us.  Please tell Sebastian and the others we miss and love them all.

            

    

 

 

  Sebastian's story

  https://lifeaftertherescues.blogspot.com/2015/05/memories-of-sebastian.html       

The Last Years of Sweet Penny

           

                              Penny was a lemon and white, as seen in the far left corner

 

    Almost every year, hunters decollar and dump elderly dogs who can no longer hunt effectively, or sometimes they dump a dog with a medical problem. We do our best to give them whatever food and nutrition they require, and with a vet sympathetic to animal rescuers, we get them whatever immunizations and care is necessary.  For a time, we do look for the prior owner, just in case the dog was lost and the collar broke off. The pound is helpful with this, and then ultimately issues us adoption paperwork if the original owner is never located.

               Four years ago, in the Fall, a female bicolored brown hound was left at our gates. Because she could smell our other dogs and went to check them out, she allowed us to care for her, although she was timid and showed indications of being fearful of human beings.  The vet thought that she was extremely old and that she had given birth to many litters of puppies over the years. She received a rabies shot, routine immunizations and started heartworm preventive, which she tolerated well. She ate well and within a few months had gained the weight the vet thought was optimal. Within about six months she was running with our dogs and acting as if she'd spent a lifetime here.  Because the vet thought she could be as old as sixteen, we chose not to subject her to general anesthesia to be spayed.  Instead, we kept her in our professional kennel with other female dogs and watched her carefully when we took her out on a leash.

             In 2020, the vet believed that she was likely eighteen years of age or perhaps even older and that she could pass at any time. We tried not to think about this much, and it was also hard to believe especially since she was so excited when she was fed, or when we came to play with her.  Because she was so old, we decided to replace her bed with a comfortable and extra padded one in advance of Christmas, when we would normally replace any beds that required it.

              This morning, she was happy to see us, and was up while her water bucket was scrubbed and the water changed. She began to eat as we left the kennel.  This afternoon, when we came to do afternoon, and evening care, and to turn off the radio which runs during the day, she was quiet. She seemed stretched out and comfortable in her new bed. A quick look told us that she hadn't eaten much breakfast this morning. When we took a closer look, the quiet sleeping dog on the new bed wasn't breathing. Some time this afternoon, Penny had passed.  Her eyes are peacefully closed. There is no mess, and she isn't curled up as if she were cold.  As much as this was an extremely elderly dog whose passing was expected, we are sad. She loved her life almost as much as we enjoyed having her here.  Godspeed Penny.  Thank you for staying here and for taking the chance of coming here that September day four years ago.  You could have run away. You could have stayed at the gate waiting for the hunter who left you here, but you were a bright girl. You knew we would care for you. We will bury you and have a farm funeral tomorrow.  Penny, I love you and I am truly going to miss you.

 

                  

Henrietta "Boo-Boo" Hen and the End of an Era

             

                                            Eventually, as Winter came, a fitted tarp was secured to

                               the top of the kennel to prevent their flying out, and being caught by predators.

 

 

 

           Henrietta, "Boo-Boo" was a chick who hatched one summer from an unplanned breeding between one of my particularly speedy and beautiful quick moving Bantam girls, and a much larger Rhode Island Red rooster.  Unplanned, successful hatchings are rare, in part because some of the chickens aren't particularly good mothers and also because the temperature variant even in summer can be broad.  Most fertilized eggs, unless we incubate them do not result in a successful chick here.  Henrietta was one in a million. 

                Because she had been hatched at a time of year that was unusual, and was smaller than the other hens of her type, she tended to be picked on. She frequently received boo-boos, and they seemed to attack her comb, which is quite vascular and can bleed a great deal. Eventually I decided that the older girls were dangerous to her, and I decided to place her in a different hen house with a young rooster who could protect her.  The two happily played house together for years in their own pen, and survived attempts to get them by coyotes, raccoons, young foxes and even a possum. Each day, Henrietta produced a perfect brown egg, which I collected and usually used each day, mostly because she was so proud of the egg.

                After about thirteen years, her mate died, early on a Fall morning.  I wasn't sure what to do for Henrietta.  Eventually, I placed an elderly rooster, a brother of her former spouse, in the pen with her, and although she seemed relieved, I don't think it was quite the same. The following year, her second mate died of old age.

                By then, she was no longer producing eggs and I thought that perhaps she could live with a couple of girls who were also getting on in years. Unlike some farms, I do not cull the chickens when they no longer produce eggs.  It costs me little to allow them to live out their lifespans.  The hens did not welcome Henrietta, again seeming jealous.

                Eventually, I placed her with a Lavender Orpington rooster who, although he was beautiful and a bit vain, didn't seem to want to bother her.  He kept her safe, and she seemed grateful for it.  Recently, at what would normally have been about two years beyond her normal life expectancy, she got wobbly. I looked at her closely and decided that she probably had the end of life pneumonia that takes most of them in the end. I decided to provide one round of antibiotic, one because she had a roommate and I wished to keep him healthy, and two because she would not be eaten and would not be producing eggs and so the antibiotic would not cause food chain issues. She did seem to improve, and was eating and drinking well the following day. Several days after, one morning, I found that she had died while sleeping in what looked like a comfortable position.  Her latest rooster friend was most upset, not understanding how very old she really was, and how she had cheated death so many times in one way or another.

               Thank you God, for the gift of this sweet, gentle, long lived girl. She was the very model of gratitude,  Please keep her for me, until I get home to the farm in the sky, and I can resume my duties.

                 Although this is an ending, it is also a beginning. A couple of weeks after Henrietta's passing, I put the young Lavender Orpington rooster nearby five young Asian black hens I had bought.  In about fifteen weeks, he will begin his task as their protector.

    

In Memory of Sweet Sheila

This is Sheila, during the Spring of her last year.

                       A couple of years after Daniel died, a new family moved in to a tall farmhouse, about four miles from here. They had a number of children and were determined, just as we had been, to provide their children with positive experiences with animals, and skills as to how to care for a variety of them.  The fields adjacent to their home, at that time, were filled with brown sheep.  A few times that week, I drove past the home while on errands.  On one of the times I drove past, I noticed a smaller sheep walking along the road, about a quarter mile from the field of sheep itself. I routinely keep a new leash in my glove compartment, which is usually used to rescue lost dogs I see from time to time, in our rural area. This time I  parked at the side of the country road, approached the sheep, and wrapped the leash around his neck and gently secured it while talking gently to him. He happily followed me back to the house with the sheep, which is where I had imagined he'd come from. The lady who answered the door was watching children as the mother had just come home from the hospital with a new baby. She struggled to find a leash so that I could have mine returned as she relocated the sheep.

                  When I next had occasion to talk to the family and ask them how the mom and new baby were doing, I learned that it was the mother-in-law who had collected the sheep that day. The man thanked me for returning the sheep and asked me if I would like to take home a couple of the sheep.  I wouldn't normally have wished to take on two sheep, but with several of our kids in college, we had recently decided not to breed alpacas any longer, and we thought Cammie, our youngest alpaca, might enjoy a young sheep as a surrogate baby. We were happy to take on a second sheep because ideally, animals should always be housed with at least one other of their own species.

                  The man charged us a nominal fee for the young male sheep, and the same for his mother.   He told us that they were Cotswold sheep, in fact, they were even rarer than that. They were Black Cotswold sheep.  He was parting with them because both of them tended to be escapists, and because he had more than enough animals suitable for breeding.   We brought them home, in a regular car with tarpaulins put down,  to pastures set up for our alpacas, and to our family of about five alpacas from our original herd, and never had any challenges with their attempting to escape. I later decided that both Sheila, and her son, were brighter than normal sheep and that this is why they had tended to challenge restrictions in their original home.  At first, they were kept separately from the alpacas, and then after a suitable introduction and time spent to make sure everyone was well,  Sheila, the female sheep was housed with some alpacas. The younger male sheep, which we named Tesla for his superior intellect, was housed with Cammie, our prize alpaca.  Everyone got along well.

                 Almost ten years have passed since Sheila and her son came to live with us. They have been trouble free and gentle creatures, and great companions to our alpacas. As time went on, and our alpacas reached twenty to twenty-four years, one by one, most of the alpacas died.  This left more and more pasture and more solitude to Sheila.  Earlier this year when I was considering the routine worming that all animals on a farm should have considered, I realized that Sheila was already beyond normal life expectancy.  I realized how lucky we have been to have this lovely sweet sheep with us each day. She was able to see her son Tesla daily, as part of his pasture was adjacent to hers.

                Sheila continued a calm and peaceful life until a day last week, when she seemed a little slower than usual to rise as I approached.  We made sure we spent plenty of time with her that day. The following day, she had Cheyne-Stokes respirations, and she died peacefully later that morning, while we were present.

               Sheila was the recipient of a typical farm funeral just outside the paddock with all of the animals, including her son Tesla present.   We were so lucky to have this dear creature as a companion to us and to our other animals.

Your Pets Cannot Give You Coronavirus

               

                This is Ranger, who was sheltered for a time at the shelter mentioned.


  It has come to my attention that in the midst of coronavirus that in some places, particularly Southern California, that people are abandoning their pets in droves.  Although some early coverage stated incorrectly,

 Your dog, cat, rabbit or other house pet cannot give the COVID-19 coronavirus to you.


All that relinquishing him with do, in these times, is to ensure his euthanization.  Many, many pets have been euthanized during this time because of the disparity between the number of animals being relinquished and the number being adopted.

                 Please keep your animals. 

   If you wish to adopt an animal then contact your local pound or find our when East Valley Animal Services is open again. They always have lots of beautiful dogs and animals waiting for homes, and they euthanize many. 

  http://www.laanimalservices.com/shelter-search/east-valley/

In Gratitude for Sable

       

                                                                   Sable


 


          In 2009, we were called to adopt a beautiful adult dog from a shelter who had a persistent and ongoing case of dermodectic mange.  This is a type of mange that is not communicable, per se, but is caused by an exaggerated reaction to the mites that all dogs naturally have occupying their skin. Often dogs with ongoing dermodectic mange, have other autoimmune issues, which occasionally include lupus.

             Sable was a beautiful dog who still had missing fur around her eyes and muzzle. We were told that now that her dermodectic mange had been treated that it should resolve and she should live normally.  We knew at the time that the possibility of recurrence existed.  In not too many years prior to this, dogs with ongoing cases had to be euthanized.

              About a month later, Sable once again had a severe case of dermodectic mange. She was itching, losing hair, had infected eyes, and had areas of skin that were also infected.  Our vet treated the infections, but needed to do some research as to how to suppress as severe and as continuing a case as she had.   Once again, she recovered, only to backslide again, every time the daily drug which helped to prevent her reaction was withdrawn or the dosing schedule amended.  In addition, Sable had a touchy stomach and couldn't receive the oral version of the drug as often as she needed it to inhibit the reaction.   Eventually, the vet had me administer Dectomax, which we had on the farm for other animals anyway.  Sable received about a half ml. subcutaneously every third day, and this permitted her to recover, and live a normal life.  Of course, medicating any dog as frequently, with any drug, is not well charted territory.  As much as she needed the drug, receiving it could ultimately cause liver and other problems. Each year, the vet explored cutting back, and each year, Sable would have a flare, and we would have to return to the prior dose. At some intervals, she received Dectomax every other day via subcutaneous injection.   We realized that the continuous use of the drug might decrease her expected lifespan. We also were grateful to have her live a wonderful life here on the farm, and not require euthanization.

             Eleven years have passed since beautiful Sable came to us, and she has enjoyed a wonderful life and has been an important part of the farm. She has played with horses, alpacas, cats, chickens, guineas, ducks, sheep, and other dogs, and now she plays with our grandchildren. Her jet black hair is now gray in places, and her eyes have aged. Despite the thickening of parts of her skin as a result of her ongoing skin process, she still has thick hair, so much so that she frequently resists our putting a turn out style dog coat on her in Winter.

             A couple of days ago, Sable went out, and didn't come back in. When we found her, she seemed unable to walk and more concerning, unable to eat. We have had dogs recover from strokes before and so we were initially very positive. She received an antibiotic in prevention because her lungs seems congested following her neurological event. For the two days that followed, she peacefully lay on her side. We offered food and fluids at intervals, and were prepared to have her euthanized, had she experienced pain or tooth grinding.  Sable passed peacefully in the early afternoon today, probably the result of a stroke.

             When we take on an animal with a chronic illness then we must anticipate some added effort and some expense, but we also should expect a loyal and kind friend. Sometimes a dog who has required specialized medication all of their lives will die early, but sometimes they won't.  My family and I don't regret even one moment of the time we had with Sable.   Sable sweetheart, rest in peace, and thank you for being a part of the farm. It was our honor and privilege to have you here.

The End of an Era

                        A few years ago, these were our ducks. A number of them were older than ten years, and continuing to do well.  Ducks are great animals. They need a clean and secure cage, a kids pool that is changed regularly, and drinking water and good quality food.  They also enjoy salad greens periodically.

                        After more than ten or even more years, some of them began to pass quietly, often in their sleep. But as these animals grew and aged, things around this farm changed too.  Back twenty years ago when we first acquired most of this land, the eight hundred acres or so, close to it or around it, was timbered, and then replanted. Many animals relocated following the timbering. However, in Virginia, wood is very much a renewable resource. Often within 15 years the pine forests are completely back, and the oaks take longer.  While my ducks were growing up, and secure in their dog kennel with a canvas roof, with wooden dog houses inside for shelter, the surrounding woods were growing and thickening.  Animals were returning to the forest, and raising families. With the heavy rains of the last couple of years, the number of family members the predators had, increased.  As my ducks aged, and got slower, and perhaps forgot not to stand near the edges of the doors which have a small space animals might use to grab them, the predators were growing in number and training their young.

                     Within the last couple of years all but two of the above ducks either died of natural causes or as meals to creative young predators.  This week, only two of them were left.  Two of the brown Khaki Campbells, Dexter and Millard, were old, but they were surviving.  They also seemed pretty good at remaining within their dog houses, in their pens, at night.  Their pens looked pretty solid to me, although we have learned over the years that as Winter approaches, hungry raccoons, hungry oppossums, can access most any enclosure.  We have also learned that foxes, both grey and red varieties, when training a group of young, can access almost anything and risk almost anything to feed their young.  So this week, Dexter was found first. A predator had grabbed for him through the very narrow frame around the door of the duck pen. The only good thing about this, is that he likely died very suddenly. Often when only one animal is left somewhere, I move them, but I wasn't sure where I could move the remaining duck, Millard, who also had some markings which suggested he was a Khaki Campbell and Mallard mix.  This morning, when we went to check on all the animals, Millard had been caught exactly as his brother had been.  The ducks lived long lives here, but are now gone.

                   We had ducks here because it was an important part of educating our five children, and because Daniel especially loved them, and got them for Easter one year when he was very small. We enjoyed them because we did occasionally make omelets from their big eggs, which are excellent scrambled or in omelets with chopped chives and cheese added to them. They also make wonderful cakes which stand very tall, when used as a substitution for chicken's eggs. When we had many extra eggs, we also cooked them and gave them as an occasional treat to our dogs, many of which are rescues and could use some extra protein periodically.  We also noticed that female ducks tended to pass before male ducks, we think due to their more complex reproductive systems.   This is therefore the end of about a fifteen or so year era of having and enjoying ducks.

                 I will miss Dexter and Millard very much, as I miss the others, but now, with the forest regrown, and the predators ready for a pre-Winter Thanksgiving meal of delicious duck, it seems foolish to have ducks here again.  We no longer have wolves here, but there are plenty of coyotes, a number of which were thinned by hunters last year.  This generally causes their numbers of coyotes at least, to swell again the following year. We also have a bumper crop of gray and of red foxes, the result of a neighbor who was licensed to breed them for hunting, and then during a flood, lost almost all of his breeding stock. We now have rather demanding gray and red fox, who will directly challenge us from time to time. We also once saw a black fox.   Possums and raccoons abound here, and so, our ducks, whether young or old, would be endangered.


                  Perhaps the kindest thing to do is to admit that the farm has changed and that poultry may not be safe here any longer.  We will miss you.

A Tribute to Beautiful and Sweet Walter

             

Walter

            I dislike giving the impression that there is a lot of death on a farm. The reality is that there is a lot of life on a farm, and wherever on Earth there is life, there will eventually be a passing. All animals, and all people eventually pass.  Of course, we try to keep them alive as long as possible, and we take great joy when they exceed normal life expectancy for their species, and are still well and enjoying living their lives.  In totality, we have been very lucky on this farm and most of our species have outlived normal life expectancy, including a couple of alpacas who died just weeks shy of their twenty-fifth birthdays !   However, there have been a few individual losses of animals earlier than normal life expectancy, and these leave us sad, hungry for more information as to how to treat these animals when they do become ill.  Even with competent camelid vets, alpacas are exotics. In the wild, they hide discomfort, birth and illness so as not to show weakness to predators. This means that even on farms, they may be feeling poorly with no such indication to their caregivers. By the time the caregivers have figured out there is a problem, the disease or disorder is well entrenched and often, according to the vet, is very difficult to reverse at that point. Often, the first indication you might have that an alpaca is in trouble, is the day before he dies.  In addition, this year on the farm, a number of animals are indeed very old, and the price of giving homes to animals forever, is that some years will involve multiple burials and multiple animal funerals.

         Walter joined us from a petting zoo quite a bit West of here, about three years ago.  He has always been a curious and loving individual. He had been a good breeder at his prior home, but we did not have plans to use him in that way.  When his fiber grew in, he looked huge, like a giant walking cotton ball, and sheering him was easy, because he stood perfectly still.  He was not a fan of having toenails trimmed, but he tolerated everything done for him.   He was sick one time, in Spring,  about two years ago when he ate some type of week by craning his long neck over the fence. It made him quite ill as he vomited and foamed at the mouth for a couple of days. Eventually, I found a vet who would come about the time the issue resolved, and we removed any weeds within long neck reach of his fenced area.  He has done well since.

       We were aware that unlike our others, Walter preferred to eat pelleted grain from a dish on the ground, and that sometimes, he preferred it to be sprayed with fresh water before eating. There were one or two episodes of choking I remember over the years.  He has always been energetic and sweet and has been a good friend to other alpacas, the occasional sheep and to our horses.

         His loss was a very big surprise to us.   He joins a large herd that we first established in the 1990s in Heaven.  I believe he has a mother and a sister still living, and a number of male and female offspring.  I believe that Walter was only eleven.  He will be missed.

Sally Ann Goes Home

Sally

        In 2004, when we moved our alpacas and our dogs to new acreage and a new barn in anticipation of the completion of a new house, one of our dogs died suddenly, the apparent result of being swarmed by yellowjackets in that years very hot Summer. Despite the fact that we actually had veterinary epinephrine, we arrived likely minutes after she had passed.  We lost our golden retriever Albert that day who was a dear and gentle friend.

       A few weeks later, a female golden labrador, who could have been a sister to Albert arrived there. She had a cheap blue collar I noted had come from the Dollar Store.  She was in no hurry to leave. We fed and watered her, and tied her as we tried to locate her owners.  I put pictures of her with an information sheet at seven different local gas stations and grocers, and since we are very rural here, I placed some as far as thirty miles from here, since so many people commute. I contacted five animal shelters as lost animals in the country often originate from surprising distances, all to no avail.  No one called us, and no one locally had ever seen her before.  We took her to the vet to get her a rabies shot. The vet didn't know of anyone missing such a dog, and eventually they put us in touch with the local pound, where several weeks later, we adopted her.

               Our youngest son Daniel always enjoyed animals, and this one year old puppy was no exception.Daniel named her Sally. In fact, she also had a middle name, which was Ann.  She was very calm, sweet and devoted. She adapted quickly to our other dogs, and a couple of months later, we had her spayed. She enjoyed our farm animals, and she never ran off. She always stayed near the kids, and she watched them carefully.

                Finally the new house was complete, more farm buildings came, and four glorious years passed. In 2008, when both my father and Daniel who was only twelve and a half died of a sudden cardiac arrhythmia, all of our animals missed Daniel desperately. Sally had a way of listening as if she understood all that you were saying. She had a very comforting manner.  In the years which have passed, Daniel's dogs have all died one by one, each of them making it to quite advanced ages. Jake, the German Shepherd died the following year. Jared, the Siberian Husky also died at about sixteen. Rosheen, the Jack Russell Terrier was in her teens when she passed, and Mark, the black labrador who had seizures, finally died at thirteen. Alvin, a tricolor hound who came to us as a rescue was said to have been twenty when he died.  All through this time, Sally hung on. She was sweet and well, and it was hard to believe that she was as old as she was.  About three years ago, during her vet visit the vet prepared me for the probability that she would probably not make it through the Winter, due to her steadily advancing age. Of course, she did.

               In 2018 Sally had a stroke, and we knew from a dog we had some years ago who also had one, that if you can hand water and feed a dog through the acute phase of a stroke that many of them will recover almost completely within six weeks. So we worked hard to care for her. By six weeks she was nearly completely recovered, and the vet started her on an eighty milligram aspirin each day. We knew her days we limited, but we cared for this sweet dog as if she were human, just as Daniel would have done had he been here. My husband worked very hard to do her physical rehabilitation, and he has videos upon videos of her walking around the farm, in all weathers, sometimes with a coat on that resembles a turn out coat for horses. The vet was astounded at her continued longevity.

             The last few weeks have been rough. She has been failing, but she has not been in pain. We will euthanize our dogs if they are in pain or if they simply don't wish to eat or be cared for any longer, but she has just been slowing down, needing assistance with feeding, and using a sling in order to stand to use the bathroom and to ambulate.  Yesterday, she wasn't hungry and didn't want water. She wouldn't take my special home brew of lemon gatorade formulated for dogs.   Sally passed relatively quickly and easily tonight at midnight with my husband and I standing beside her telling her how glad we were to have had her join our family.  She passed on to Jesus and to Daniel tonight, who now has all of the dogs he knew here on Earth, with him. There is only one more alpaca who remains on Earth that Daniel knew, otherwise all of the animals here on the farm joined us after his departure. It's hard to imagine than eleven years have passed since the day that Daniel was called to leave us.

           Thank you Sally for being such a wonderful part of our lives through joy and through sadness. Please know you are loved very much. Daniel must be thrilled to have you with him now, and you will see your old friends and your beloved kennel mate Benjamin, whom I believe are also with Daniel, and with my father, who also always loved dogs.   Godspeed, sweet Sally Ann.


        

The End of Our Poultry Era

               

These were some of the original hatchlings eleven years ago.

           The majority of the chickens on the farm are the children and the grandchildren of a mix of speedy small Bantam hens who were bred with a singular and very handsome Rhode Island Red rooster.  Bantams have a lifespan of about 5-7 and Rhode Island Reds can live as long as 10-12 years. Since it's been almost 11 years since many of these were hatched, we are losing them almost daily. We should be grateful for the fact that many of them have lived beyond reasonable expectations of lifespan, and yet losing any animal, even at end of life, is sad.

                   This week Flitter, a granddaughter of the original flock was caught and killed by a fox. Gertrude, who was found on her side twice this week, died quietly in her sleep this morning. She still looked fantastic.

                   Rather than replacing these birds, I think we will take a break.  We still have really elderly ducks, and some really elderly roosters and a couple of hens. I still have not replaced our guineas who died over the Winter courtesy of a particularly large family of red foxes, who are now eating the chickens of our neighboring farms.   Once all of them have gone, we will toss their older housing, clean the areas around their housing, build new chicken housing and fencing, and get a few just for eggs, and the enjoyment of having them.  I would love to have more guineas, but I am concerned about the foxes. Perhaps I can invest in the extra large guineas I saw advertised just recently.

               Thank you birds, for all the eggs, all the enjoyment, and for making our farm a busy and joyous place.

An Abrupt End for Snow

             

           For those of you who think my being open to shooting a raccoon in the last post, please let me assure you. Locating it to eliminate it, can be much more difficult than you realize.  Since the initial loss of the rooster and three hens from the hen house, in a manner suggestive of raccoon, I am missing another bird.  Two nights ago, in silence, I actually heard a loud squalk all the way up at the house, and then silence.  The following morning, I found a mass of white feathers outside the barn, and then about twenty feet from there, another mass of white feathers. Then, if one followed the occasional soft abdominal feathers on the ground into the woods, and went another twenty feet or so, there is one more collection of feathers, and then no more. This is apparently where the predator finally broke Snow's neck, and she could fight no more. This attack, incidentally, is much more characteristic of a fox.   Snow, was a fairly large guinea fowl, who for some reason on the night in question, was on the ground, rather than up in her perch with her siblings and her mate.

           I raised this particular group of guinea fowl from hatchlings and they were excellent at defending themselves once they attained maturity. I have actually seen them in group formation, kill a copperhead snake. It's not pleasant to watch, but I was pleased they could defend themselves. Now there are only six of the original eight that I raised here several years ago. 

Seasonal Farm Changes

               

            For the most part, things are well on the farm. Sally, who is extremely old, is presently fairly well and is holding her own.   Despite Hurricane Florence, the animals all have excellent shelters and are safe and well attended.
                  However, as Summer turns to Autumn and again as Autumn turns to Winter, there are parts of the year in which predators step up their game. One of our hen houses has a double wrap fencing, and should be quite secure from predators, and for about six years, this particular cage has been.  It also has wheels so that we may move it periodically to fresh grass for the hens. Until this week, this particular system housed a rooster and three hens, since we have a variety of other hen houses.  Then, Sunday morning, we found the ten year old rooster dead and partially dragged through the fencing.  We buried Frank, that was his name, and reinforced the fencing for the remaining three girls, who were all about seven years old each. 
                   In our experience, a fox doesn't drag a dead rooster through the sides of a fence, but a raccoon often will. Raccoons can open almost any enclosure with their amazing little hands, and sometimes will close it when they finish. 
                   Sadly, this morning, the three remaining hens were found dead.  This pretty much confirms that a raccoon is stalking and eating our chickens.  This is sad because the hens were only seven, and Frank, about age ten, was a good protector.  To have them all wiped out in the transition from Summer to Fall just seems so unfair.
                     I will attempt to trap the offending raccoon and locate him to an eight hundred acre forest a distance away. If I cannot, then I will need to shoot him.  I cannot have him killing the remainder of the chickens, the ducks, or the guinea fowl this Winter, or developing rabies as is fairly common in this area for raccoons, and then biting one of us or the horses or other livestock.  No matter when we lose our animals, it's always unfortunate.