Bob McBride
54 Cal.
After a one year long battle of wits, that I've been losing, against a Red Fox Vixen and her outlaw boyfriend I finally landed the coup de gras. I saw them in the pasture exercising the Geese when I came home from the store today, so once again I ran up to the house and grabbed the Soddy and headed the 1/4 mile up to the front pasture. I spotted him sitting in the middle of the pasture taking a breather from being ran ragged by the Geese, who just fly from one side to the other til the Fox gets bored (the ducks are helpless against them). A well placed 60y shot braced on a fence post dropped him cold. He was a little off broadside so the RB crossed his body entering just behind the shoulder and exiting his belly. Once I dropped him I reloaded and set down in the shade knowing the Vixen would come sniffing around (she was a full 150 yards away). Sure enough, a half hour later and only 10' from him I dented her sheet metal. Not as good a shot and she made it 20 yards into a groundhog hole and I couldn't retrieve her. So after 11 Ducks, 1 Goose, and at least 5 Chickens (although, the chickens could've done in by Coons) I've restored calm to the livestock of Half Creek Ranch....
....and the old Vixen was sport enough to bury herself.
...That's the thing about farming and living a rural, hunting, and livestock lifestyle. Death is almost a daily occurence it seems. Beautiful momma goats stuck in fences all night in the freezing cold with Kids depending on her, calves and kids stillborn, ducks and chickens murdered by the 2-3's by Coons with not a bite eaten, the dogs tying into groundhogs and needing their ears stitched, hardy Sows that die from Pneumonia in the Spring after weeks of almost hourly care so they don't die of dehydration and malnutrition while they're trying to beat a virus, me riding the fence lines at 2am in 3 degree (f) weather to make sure they're all ok, losing one little baby pig after another for no apparent reason. It's much easier when you know it's part of life but I still murmur a few words over each and every one of them. Particularly the ones raised or harvested for food, because, and this is my favorite part, I know I'm a part of all of it, and no different than any of them.... That beautiful Vixen died because other things needed to live.
....and the old Vixen was sport enough to bury herself.
...That's the thing about farming and living a rural, hunting, and livestock lifestyle. Death is almost a daily occurence it seems. Beautiful momma goats stuck in fences all night in the freezing cold with Kids depending on her, calves and kids stillborn, ducks and chickens murdered by the 2-3's by Coons with not a bite eaten, the dogs tying into groundhogs and needing their ears stitched, hardy Sows that die from Pneumonia in the Spring after weeks of almost hourly care so they don't die of dehydration and malnutrition while they're trying to beat a virus, me riding the fence lines at 2am in 3 degree (f) weather to make sure they're all ok, losing one little baby pig after another for no apparent reason. It's much easier when you know it's part of life but I still murmur a few words over each and every one of them. Particularly the ones raised or harvested for food, because, and this is my favorite part, I know I'm a part of all of it, and no different than any of them.... That beautiful Vixen died because other things needed to live.