Picture this: It was one of those nights, when it seems all light is swallowed by the darkness. You are a city gal, freshly transplanted to a country home nestled in the woods. In fact, it’s your first night in many years without the nightlights of the city to light your way.
You hear a noise in the distance – a sound like nothing you’ve ever heard.
You venture outside, wishing you had a brighter flashlight (maybe something bright enough to be seen from space), and peer into the darkness.
You hear the noise again; it sounds far away, so you venture a few more steps from the safety of the doorway, curious.
Then, you hear the odd sound once more, something like a banshee’s scream, but it’s right in front of you.
Like the stiletto-heeled girl in every horror movie ever made, I ran. Fight or flight instinct said this was a zombie, a werewolf, or maybe a chupacabra, and flight was the safest route.
Imagine my embarrassment when I did some research and discovered it was only a fox that had sent me running like a little girl. The sound is known as the vixen (female fox) bark, though male foxes are known to make the same sound. Foxes make other sounds, and all are just as creepy in the dark.
Richland County is home to the red fox and the gray fox, and we’ve seen both here at the farmstead. The gray fox has a unique trait in that it can climb trees. And you thought bird poo was bad…
The above recording was taken just a few nights ago, here at the farmstead. The recording doesn’t do the fox justice – it was so loud that my neighbor texted to ask if Bigfoot was bellowing in the woods.
Cute, fluffy, playful foxes seem like a great thing to find in nature, right? They would be, if not for the swath of destruction left in their wake.
No coop is entirely predator-proof, not even our trusty chicken tractor.
The wire had come loose from the frame near the bottom, and the fox, or some other predator, took advantage and helped itself to some KFC – minus the Kentucky part…and the fried part…
The tractor has since been repaired, and the remaining chickens tucked safely away each evening.
Notice I said “or some other predator,” because there are plenty waiting in line for the farmstead buffet.
Once I found one of these guys gnawing on a live chicken. The chicken, I have to say, was not at all happy about having her drumstick chewed on by an opossum.
These cute little fellas have been known to use their very human-like hands to get into all sorts of “fowl” mischief, opening cage doors and terrorizing helpless little old feathered ladies. Adorable raccoon bandits are not so adorable when you are a chicken, I suppose.
Another time I didn’t close the henhouse door (yes, I am The Forgetful Farmer), I heard distressed squawking in the night. I ran outside, ready to protect the flock. I threw open the coop door and found one of these…
My reaction? Yelling a few choice words not suitable for publication, I slammed the door and went back inside.
Skunks will eat eggs, but I’ve never seen one really bother the hens. In fact, skunks are pretty helpful, digging bugs and larvae out of the soil for a tasty snack.
Besides, I don’t own a gas mask, and I sure didn’t want a face full of irate skunk.
After today’s peek into Country Life with Candace, the next time you hear that song, at least you’ll know the answer…
