I had a new chicken adventure yesterday. As I was getting ready to head out to run some errands just before dark, I went to round up the chickens and lock the coop for the night. I was a little perplexed to find 3 broken eggs and a furry ball curled up under the hay in the corner. My first thought was that the chicks had hatched, though the furry ball would have meant some seriously giant-sized chicks. Speckles was snoozing on the roost, and the hens were foraging contentedly. What on earth was going on? Confusion ruled for a moment, until I got the idea to poke the furry blob....
At that instant a pointy snout raised itself at me with teeth somewhat bared. Whoa!! There was a possum in the coop! I gently nudged him with my foot. Didn't budge. I had a plastic shovel handy and I gently poked him with that. Scoot along, little possum. Apparently I forgot that possums play dead when frightened. We now had a "dead" possum. And darn it, if he didn't just sit there no matter what I did, playing dead, with a little snarl thrown in now and again for good measure.
I quickly racked my brain, trying to remember if possums bite. I'm pretty sure in the city they can carry rabies. What about here? Would he let me pick him up by the tail? I didn't like the looks of those teeth he kept flashing my way.
Then chaos broke loose. I swear, I think those chickens didn't even know he was in there. Because all of a sudden, Speckles got off the roost, realized there was an intruder, and started hootin' and hollerin'. The hens started clucking like mad, their very upset and agitated cluck (chickens, like dogs and barking, have different vocal calls, depending on whether there is danger, there is food, they are happy, they are upset, etc.). They all ran out of the coop. They did not like the possum. How did they not see him before?
Well, serendipitously, my kindly neighbor, Pat, at that very moment, pulled up my driveway in his John Deere tractor to plow the yucky, slushy, icy mess that had developed there, as my husband was away on business for the day and the weather had turned ugly (our neighbors are always so helpful like that). I ran up to Pat and his tractor, and the conversation went something like this:
"Hey, Pat! Thanks for clearing the driveway..... So.... what do you do about a possum in a chicken coop?"
"No problem! Um..... why, do you have a possum?"
"Yup."
"Now?"
"Right at this very moment."
"Well... what do you want me to do?" (Apparently he knows me well enough to ask this.)
"Not to kill it...."
"Oh." Pause. "Well, get a shovel and we'll see."
I was given the warning that this might not go well, and was asked to get a heavy metal shovel, just in case. Pat proceeded to try to scoop the possum up with the shovel, which alternately played dead, then did some acrobatic maneuvers on the shovel trying to get off, then played dead again. He bared a few teeth, Pat commented how ornery he was, and finally, was able to grab him by the tail (with heavy gloves on, of course) and plop him over the fence. The possum slowly sauntered off, not happy about being removed but apparently resigned to move on.
I thanked Pat profusely, who reminded me that if we didn't shoot him, he would keep coming back, now that he knew where the free buffet was. He added that we could live trap him and take him far, far away, too.
I then had the rather difficult task of rounding up the chickens. Now that it was apparent there was an intruder, they didn't want to go anywhere near the coop. I tried explaining to them that they were a little late with their paranoia, and the intruder was long gone. Silly chickens. I had to pick the hens up one by one and deposit them into the coop, from where they quickly scurried out, and then repeat the process until they finally got the message that it was once again quiet on the home front. Once the hens settled into the coop, Speckles quickly followed (a piece of chicken psychology: the dudes will always go where the ladies are).
I went inside and did some research. It turns out that possums do not always just go for the eggs. Hens have been injured and killed plenty of times by intruding possums, and so I consider myself lucky that all we lost was a few eggs.
Now we have to come up with a plan. We have obviously gotten too lax with our chicken coop security measures, leaving the coop open from dawn until dusk, sometimes well after dark. I am aware enough to realize that could very well have been a raccoon, and the damage inflicted more serious than a few stolen eggs. For now, I have gotten into the habit of checking on the coop every hour or two, just to be sure....
Comments