On the subject of chicken predators, I really thought we would have a problem with the pack of coyotes we hear howling at the train or the snakes we find in our yard on a nearly regular basis. The hawks that hang out nearby don't seem very friendly either. I did
not think our biggest predator would come in the form of a beautiful cat.
Over the last few weeks, this cat has stalked and murdered some of our poor chickens. He waited for the right moment to capture and devour. Since the flock is fairly young, they've been free-ranging only while we are at home. A couple weeks ago, we were enjoying the afternoon... I was tending to the garden, while Alexander was busy raking dirt and the chickens happily looked for bugs. I took the boys inside only to change their diapers & get some water. When we stepped back outside, I knew something was wrong. The whole flock was suddenly looking for food across the yard from where they had been. I did a quick head count... one missing. A Red Sexlink. Knowingly, I ran for the corn field and sure enough that awful cat was hiding just within one of the rows. He had just started his tasty meal. This was the second time Alexander was able to see what the cat was doing to his poor chickens. I wonder if he'll like cats as an adult...
We put a trap up to capture the cat... I even placed the fresh remains of the meal I interrupted that day in the trap, hoping he would come in to finish. No luck. He was smart. My uncle, who knew we had a problem with this cat, was also on the lookout for it. He, however, had another method of elimination in mind. Growing up on a farm with a long lineage of the trade, this is just a perfectly normal process. You have to eliminate the predator... even if it is a soft, brightly colored cat. Well, he had a chance one afternoon. He thought he may have hit the cat, but apparently he wasn't completely successful.
Yesterday, I heard this awful crying. It scared me, but I looked for the source anyway. It was the cat, now very skinny and weak. I left it there for the moment, not sure if I should feed it or put it out of its misery. When Julio, my husband, took a look at the cat, he decided to put it in the kennel. We could feed it, and when it was better, either release it far from here or take it to the SPCA. So, we served the cat milk-soaked bread and bologna meat with a bowl of water. He ate it quickly, without even lifting his head. Alexander kept trying to poke its orange and white fur with a stick, stating in his concerned little voice, "That cat ate my chickens"!
When Julio came home, the kennel was empty. Neither of us is sure what happened.
We can choose to believe that we actually helped the cat, ...this awful cat that made a meal of several of our chickens. Maybe he grew strong enough to get out of the kennel.
Neither of us thinks we'll ever see the cat again.
RIP, murdering kitty. We had forgiven you.
