One morning, our dad was informing us on why bees swarm when Jared shouted: "Coyote!!!" We all twirled around in our chairs, trying to catch a glimpse of the long awaited predator. There it was, trotting a far distance away from us, a coyote. It was unconscious of the fact that its life was in danger. My dad ran to get his rifle from the bedroom (just in case) aimed, and fired! The bullet missed its target, and the coyote ran for its life finally realizing it was being hunted. It ran at what seemed like 15 miles and hour. Up into the tree covered hills.
Some of you might be wondering why we want this predator to die so badly.
Two of our neighbors have chickens at the moment. We are planning to get some too. This coyote ate two from each neighbor. This--as farmers-- is not a good thing, for it is a danger to our animals. We actually believe there are two coyotes. Yes, they can eat goats too. So now that we did not kill this endangerment, we are all super bummed. Hoping that coyote comes around again.
Today my dad came in and said that he slammed his finger on the container door.
"My guts are oozing out!". This was said in a that's-so-cool way. I told him to wash his "guts" off and got the band aids out and ordered him to put on the antibacterial ointment. I wrapped the band aid around his injury trying very very hard not to look at it. I asked what happened and he said that we shouldn't leave the container door open because he found a mouse in there nestled inside one of our home depot boxes with a nest and everything. Great. I asked what he did.
"I put it into the fire!". Of course. LESSON LEARNED.