Mar. 03, 2003 ~ We had to shoot
(Warning -- this one is a little gross.)
Last night I was spending waaayyyyy too much time playing this Bookworm game, mentioned by Wendy in this entry. If you decide to check it out, just be careful. It's addictive. So this is how I happened to be awake, and happened to hear the chickens yelling. Well, in their own way, they were yelling. And one sound in particular sounded especially bad, because it was cut off in mid-yell. That did not bode well. As a rule, chickens sleep when it's dark. They don't get up in the middle of the night and make long distance phone calls or play on the computer or do aerobics. They just sleep. So I got up and went outside in my robe and slippers, grabbing a flashlight and a stick of firewood on my way. Firewood does not make the best weapon, but it's better than a shoe, which was what I grabbed the last time something went bump in the night.
The birds were still yelling, and several of them were huddled up in one corner of the pen. A striped tail and a pair of wide eyes caught my attention next. That and the pile of feathers on the ground beside it. The raccoon looked so small and so scared, and he raised one paw in the air, as if he was trying to decide what to do. Should he stay and eat or should he run? Was I dangerous? In such cases, I am very dangerous indeed. I'll do almost anything to keep from killing an animal, but in cases like this, there is no moral question. I went inside for the shotgun, reaching for extra shells, and woke Husband up. He is better at shooting things in the dark. Were it up to me, I'd stand there and worry... what about ricochets? What about accidentally shooting some of the birds? And Sugar, where was Sugar? We can't shoot our horses, for goodness sake. I can beat things to death, and have done so. Snakes, generally. (And here you thought I was sweet. Not if you mess with my babies or my animals.) But Husband shoots best.
It took two shots to dispatch that raccoon. The first one probably would have done it, but he did not die easily. He made horrible sounds (causing me serious anguish) and then lurched in Husband's direction, ready to kill HIM, or at least get in a few last bites, so Husband had to shoot again, then quickly step out of the pen. We waited a few more minutes to be sure, then Husband took a shovel and removed the carcass. He asked if I wanted him to get the dead chicken out of there, too, but it was late, cold, and muddy, and I said I would take care of it in the morning. He threw the raccoon way out in the pasture, where coyotes or buzzards will take care of it. This morning, the dead chicken joined her killer there. She was one of my favorites, too. White with black feathers on her head and wing tips, with pretty black feathered "boots."
Shotguns do a lot of damage, and there is blood everywhere in the pen. I filled a bucket with water and tried throwing it on the walls, but no luck. Should have known better. I briefly considered getting a scrub brush and scrubbing down the walls, but... that is not my idea of a fun thing to do. It's supposed to rain again this week, so hopefully the rain will wash everything clean. If not, I really will have to don gloves and get a brush and just do it.
So much for the peaceful country life.
Oh, and our local library's activity building burned this weekend. It's a goner. I was extremely sad to see this. The local kids had their summer reading activities in that building, and I volunteered there many times. The literacy council did their tutoring and had all their materials there. Several civic groups met there. Lots and lots of history in that one little building. It's a huge loss for our community.
I saw our local newspaper publisher at the grocery store yesterday. Knowing she had been out of town (I'd tried to call her about a church matter), I asked if she'd heard that "our building" had burned. She hadn't. It is a sign of my growing "small-town-girlness" that I felt a weird little thrill at being the first one to tell her about it. Is this what they call gossip? I hope not. But it did feel strange for me to be telling the newspaper lady... the news.
On a positive note -- and I'm almost afraid to say this -- I feel a little better today. This is what... the sixth round of antibiotics? My head does not feel like it's going to explode, which is an improvement. Tomorrow I go back to the doctor. He was supposed to decide about referring me for surgery, and I'm hoping I can convince him to give me more of this same antibiotic, since it seems to be helping, and maybe another round of steroids. Those help, too. Well, they make me sick to my stomach, give me a terrible headache, and make me dizzy. But other than that, they work really well at what they're supposed to do, which is decreasing swelling and inflammation. It has not been long since I took them, and he might not agree to it, so we shall see.
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