Our big dog Killick, has had a chicken fetish for the last couple years. He's been pretty innocent in his endeavors, until now. One of our friends put it this way: "He's border patrol." The chicken gets out, Killick takes care of it. Our new flock was getting out all the time. I've never had a flock of chickens "FLY the coop" as much as this one. In fact, I've never had chickens fly over the fence at all until this new flock. I knew Killick was getting them when they got over, but I never wanted to know how many I lost, until now.
Last Saturday we were gone ALL day. It was dark when we got home and I went to lock the coops up. I walked into the barn (the coop for the larger, newer flock) and found a big pile of feathers, a mass of feathers, some with flesh still attached. This was not an ordinary thing. I looked around for a carcass thinking maybe a chicken just died and the others had lunch (they actually do do this). But no carcass was found and if that had happened, there would have been a carcass. I looked around outside in their run for one as well, but didn't find one. Instead I found a broken fence, as in something literally climbed the fence!!! It was broken at the top and the bottom half was sagging tremendously!
I have no doubt in my mind that our dog, Killick, got into the coop! Killick has not been on my "friends" list in a VERY LONG time. It is no secret that I do not like this dog and do not consider him my dog at all. But now! Words cannot explain how I feel about this dog now.
I SHOULD have approximately 81 hens in that barn. I've sold some, a couple have died and therefore I SHOULD have approximately 81. On Saturday I decided I just needed to know what he's done. I waited for them to roost for the night and went to count.
I am not pleased to say that I THINK I MIGHT have sixty hens left. Maybe, if I'm lucky. I'm not saying he got 20 hens in that one day, I know that the numbers have trickled down slowly but I know he got more than one. The last 2 days my egg count has been down by about 10-12 eggs, give or take.
Killick is now on a trolley lead in the yard. He is NEVER to roam free again, except at night. Once the chickens are locked up for the night I let him go run and chase other predators. (notice I say "other" ) He has a doghouse (he doesn't know how to use) and he is not welcome in my house any longer. (I might lose the battle on that one when winter roles around again, though.)
Let me be very clear...this was NOT my decision because he is NOT my dog.
You know what they would have done on the old farmstead?