s vanished as something larger moved in, something smarter, and strong enough to jump a fence with a turkey in its' mouth without even trying hard. First thought was a wolf since no more coyote yipping, but the first bird taken by the mystery creature was in an open field and literally 40 feet from our back door. Wolves just won't do that in our area, they're harrassed within an inch of their lives. Plus, I speak wolf lol. I will howl to drive coyotes away, and it's been years since I've heard an answering howl.I had my suspicions what it might be, but no proof--our newest threat to the birds is silent, FAST, stealthy and deadly. It does not call, growl, yip or howl. It did not leave hair as it squirmed through fences (because it used open gates or just jumped right over), it did not mark anywhere I could find, and the one pile of scat I found was nondescript medium sized carnivore scat with rabbit hair in it that was whitening so was probably from an older coyote dump. It did not drag heavy birds nor even drop feathers from them in tall grass, meaning it is taller and stronger than coyote. It doesn't have an unusual odour...I have an unfortunately sensitive nose, and am shameless about sniffing scent and sign.
Today, a routine pasture check revealed Buddy, our yearling Jersey bull calf, was not with the other young bulls, nor in any of his usual favourite spots. A quick fence check turned up nothing unusual, and I figured he was probably off in the fields, under the prickly ash, sleeping off a food binge. So, after a couple hours of no Buddy, off we went to do a more thorough fence check, and found a spot he could have theoretically wormed through if he wanted. I started crisscrossing 45 acres of waist high pasture, scanning for every flattened spot (aka animal bed), following every game trail. No cow sign, but I forgot about Buddy when I found what was left of a missing goose ( nothing but feathers), and then a missing muscovy drake (feathers and gnawed bones), a random raccoon skull with chewed cheekbone; clearly old roadkill used as a chewtoy and discarded; and THEN the half-eaten, fresh (little dried around the edges in the midday sun but not flyblown yet) carcass of one of my favourite EE roosters, a guy who literally never moved 10 feet from the barn. He was let out of the barn at 8 in the morning. It briefly flashed across my mind to go all the way back to the house for the crossbow, but I knew if I did, I'd lose my chance to even just see what had been hunting my birds. I assumed that my noisy bushwhacking and outraged exclamations had disturbed the animal during its feast, and it had gone off a ways to nap and wait for me to leave.
I entered 'hunt' mode and moved along the freshest trail to the very back of our hayfields. Ahead of me is a break in the grass, what looks like a spot that's been trampled down. Not the first one I've seen, but the trail I'm walking is bruised and fresh. Something is hiding or sleeping there.
beyond that is the property backing onto mine, which has been planted with field corn this year, and, giving a brief thought to Buddy, I scan the edge for an 800 lb calf, or signs he had been there. After all, if I was a loose cow, that's where I'd go, to the yummy corn. No sign, but obvious bent tunnels where something smaller had gone under the corn recently and habitually. Back to the task at hand.
Now, in the damp long grass and late summer weeds, there's finally a hint of a smell--faint wet dog smell. Another nanosecond of thought makes me wonder, not for the first time, if I'm tracking a feral dog, but I dismiss the thought for a hundred reasons.
I'm literally so close that I can smell it.
I want it, I want to see it, and I want it gone from my territory. Closer to the tramped down spot. Closer. I'm partly upwind, why hasn't it bolted, could I be mistaken and it's long gone? Looking at the fresh bruised grass, the dip, and the lack of trails away from the dip, I reassure myself it's still there. Could it be waiting to ambush ME? Fat chance, you @$&%==@. I grin and slip 1/4 circle to the west, no longer upwind. I wait 5 minutes and move forward again, two thoughts warring in my brain, the curiousity, the need to know what it is; and the desire to charge ahead, pounce, and shake the life out of it so it can never harm one of mine again.
40 feet away. 30. I crouch to stalk, to put myself in a better defensive position, should it come towards me for any reason. I'm weaponless except for a pocketknife, but I don't take it out. It doesn't even occur to me to do so.
25 feet. I still can't see it, it must be laying flat out, but the smell is stronger than ever and definitely wet canine. In MY territory. A switch is thrown in my brain and I can't help myself, a rumbling growl comes out of my mouth.
I guess I woke it up, because suddenly it shot skyward, twisting and flailing around like its' tail was suddenly on fire, saw me and ran for a few confused steps for the cover of the corn field. Slowed and looked back to get its' bearings, saw me coming behind it (couldn't help myself though I knew it was hopeless) then ran flat out until it got into the corn. I could hear it zigzagging confusedly in there for a bit before it found its regular route and trotted away. I was torn between disappointment that I hadn't torn its thieving throat out, or been able to shoot it...and a relief that it wasn't a cougar, or rabid, or still sleeping right in front of me so that I didn't have to find out if I actually had the stones to jump on it.
So what was it? A coyotedog. A hybrid, resulting from coyotes adapting to new territory, and people's squeamishness about neutering their dogs. A good size, 55-65 lbs., and a lovely colour of almost solid gunmetal grey down its back. Fluffy, healthy, fat and glossy ON MY BIRDS, and just about
ing itself as it tore off, so at least there was that small satisfaction.Soooo...did we ever find Buddy the cow? No, but thanks to the other bulls, we found out that the solar fence charger along one side had died, and that they were stepping over the page wire fence. The others had to have seen him do it, or they wouldn't have also ironically escaped while we were fruitlessly combing the hayfields for a missing calf and a chicken killer.
The moos know where their treats live, so we simply led the bulls back and locked them in the barn until we can replace the solar charger or get the plug-in run to that field.
In the meantime, although I think it will be a few days before the coyotedog braves the front half of my property, the crossbow is staying cocked, free range birds are sticking close of their own accord, and I'm on high alert for sounds, alarms and smells.
and to make a lot of bang noises that will give the invaders some second thoughts.
