For quite some time now there has been a rash of chicken slayings at our farm. Nearly 50 chickens have lost their lives to some fearsome creatures that have been preying on them whilst they slept. In the dead of night it would slink through the woods, coming ever nearer to the poor ladies who were trembling in fear, as they did each night. Terrified of the scratching that would come at the door, more terrified of the beasts that would come through the door and visit blood and horror upon them. They would run stark raving mad, each trying to escape the death that came each evening. Yet in the morning, each would look upon the sunrise with relief, delighted to live another day, yet ashamed that a sister had to meet a terrible fate of claws and fangs, in order for them to live a while longer.
Some futile days of effort later, a kindly neighbor put out another kind of trap. A little less deadly, but it was more effective because the culprit was soon apprehended.
It seems that a family of raccoons had discovered the buffet that an unguarded chicken coup can be. There seems to have been quite a family of them because 8 have been trapped, and 2 have been seen dead on the road. We saw another one tonight as we were finishing up milking. This little monster was thrashing at growling me as I came near the cage, giving me the evil eye. I suppose that I wouldn't be too happy to be stuck in a cage either. But for the death and destruction it and his ilk have caused, there is only one sentence...DEATH!
As I've said before, I used to think Trent was a soft-hearted guy but I might have to adjust my thinking. When I first saw Frankenstein and how the townsfolk destroyed him so easily, I found it hard to believe, however, seeing Trent the Vengeful wielding a pitchfork made me rethink how deadly it is to be on the receiving end of one of them during a peasant rebellion. No wonder the Devil uses them to spread misery and agony.