I'm excited about the FIRST weekly Homesteading Carnival. I thought I'd revive this story from the Archives for you to enjoy. For HSB bloggers who have already read it, sorry! But I wanted to submit something before the deadline!

Coyotes and Chickens and Kids, Oh, My!

One morning, not so many years ago, my 8-year-old daughter, Kristel, came screaming into the house with an empty egg basket (her morning chore was collecting eggs). "There's a coyote eating our chickens!" she shrieked.

Without a thought, I snatched up the first thing I came across--a broom--and tore out of the house. Indeed, the chicken yard looked like a war zone. The hens were ravished! Infuriated at this wanton act of destruction, I looked around for the culprit. Sure enough, there he was with a chicken in his mouth. I ran after him, hollered, and whacked at him. He dropped the chicken and took off.

But not for long....Soon (and I mean a few minutes later) the coyote was back for the breakfast he'd dropped on the run. Enough of this, I thought. So I went into the closet and got out the .22 pistol. I slammed in the clip, told the kids to stay in the house, and went out in the front yard. There he was, not more than 15 feet away, with another chicken in his mouth. He looked at me--daring me to take action.

That did it! We live inside the city limits, but I didn't care if I shouldn't be shooting off guns in town. I took aim and shot at the coyote. He didn't drop dead. He didn't drop the chicken. He didn't yelp. He didn't move. He just looked at me. Another shot. Same reaction. I began to think I was firing blanks. Two more shots. Missed again.

Then, apparently disgusted with my poor marksmanship, he trotted off---chicken still in his mouth. We never saw him again.

Moral: If you're going to shoot a coyote, try some target practice first.

Kristel around the time of the coyote incident.

Baa Baa Black Sheep, have you any wool?

Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.

One for the master, one for the dame,

And one for the little boy who lives down the lane.

By special request from Deedee06, I am going to relate my sheep story. Disclaimer: this story is not for the faint of heart. It is a sad tale, but SO newbie-farmer that it is funny--in a sick sort of way. And perhaps other folks will think twice about "saving money" and just fork out what you need in order to do a good job with your livestock. Ah...but I digress...

Besides the ever-popular and low maintenance chickens, our first real farm animal was a pregnant sheep. Oh, I loved that ewe! I could hardly wait to get a little lamb to raise and eat and have tons of wool to spin. A candidate for Mother Earth News was I in those days! Well, our ewe delivered---quite without incident---one healthy black lamb. In time, we knew our baby would turn cream with black face and feet (a Suffolk), but for now he was all black and so cute!

We were not surprised to see the long tale on our lamb. We had read our sheep "bible" Raising Sheep the Modern Way and were prepared to dock it. One problem: we didn't have an elastrator to put the band on the tail, and it cost $20. We didn't have 20 free dollars floating around. We were poor. But good news! The sheep book explained how to do this the old farmers' way: with a knife and a string.

Yes, I bet you're cringing by now. But, girding up our loins and grabbing the lamb, the docking procedure was accomplished. Three days later, the lamb was still dripping blood from the stub. "Something is definitely wrong," I told my husband.

We finally decided to take our precious lamb to the vet. Yep. It cost $40 for the vet to clean up our mess and stitch up the lamb's tail. (But at least we didn't have to pay for a farm call!). That elastrator was looking better and better.

If that were the end of the story, it wouldn't be a sad story. It would be an expensive lesson, but with a happy ending. Alas, the story does not end there. About a week later (the lamb was 3 weeks old now), I went outdoors to check up on him and his mama, and I saw him "sleeping" on the patio slab. It was the "sleep of death" however. He was lying in a pool of his own blood. Apparently the stiches had broken open (mama cleaning him up?) and he bled to death. I cried and cried. My children said, "That's OK, mommy. We can get another lamb."

What kind of children was I raising? True farmers, I guess.

Oh, and the lamb? He was all bled out so...we ate him.

Moral of the story. Unless you are an old farmer, don't use old farmer methods on your livestock. Buy an elastrator. We did. We never had any trouble with docking lambs' tails after that (or with castration, either!).

Here is a picture of mama sheep getting a bath before shearing time. A different year from the first disaster, and frankly, I can't remember if this is even the same sheep. They all look alike to me, and we were crazy enough to "do" sheep more than once.

Prairiemom gave me an idea. I was reading her blog about the Goat Lady, and it was fascinating to learn the woman raises 400 goats! I guess it's for meat, which reminded me of our our adventure with goat meat.

First of all, let me say that I LOVE dairy goats--they are right up there with my all-time favorite farm residents, the ever-faithful, low-maintenance... chickens. Now, to keep a steady supply of goat milk coming, you have to breed the does. I milked two nubian goats steadily, and each doe was faithful to produce two or three kids every year. Most were bucks. My husband and I thought, "Ah-ha! Here is an easy source of free meat, much like lamb." (Another story--sheep. Raised them, too). Easier said then done.

After disbudding and castrating, we allowed the little guys to grow strong and healthy on all the free milk (we separated them at night and I only milked once a day). Two goats give a LOT of milk for one family! At about two months of age, we figured they were just about "cookin' size." So...we butchered them. Ourselves. What a mess. Goat kids don't give near the amount of meat per pound as does a fat little lamb. It was a LOT of work to dress the kids and cut them up. And the flavor wasn't like lamb. It was more gamey---more like venison. And it wasn't tender. But is WAS free (never count labor in your idea of what is free when it comes to the farm).

It took us one time to decide that eating our own goat kids was SO not worth the time and mess. From then on, we kept them for 2 months, loaded them into the truck, and hauled them to the Sales Barn (livestock auction), where the Asians snatched them up for a tidy sum---which bought us an alternate source of protein.

P.S. We figured that out for the hens, too. For a while, we butchered the hens and stewed them, but we discovered that if we boxed them up and took them to Sales Barn, somebody paid good money. Do not ask me why someone would pay good money for a hen that is past her prime, but it worked for us.