It was Tuesday, my husband and I had let the chickens into the yard, fed them, the dogs, the cat and ourselves, and he had just left with our older German Shepherd for a trip down to the city to return some items at the store, which was about 30 miles away. Having time to myself, I had our younger dog, Suzy, who looks like a small Doberman but mixed with something else, in the house with me while I sorted through paperwork and goofed off on the computer.
Both dogs know that when the chickens make a certain type of noise, I bolt out of my chair and run for the deck to see what's wrong. It's an alarm call the chickens make and the dogs now alert bark when they do it because they know I respond to it.
Suzy heard the birds before I did. She alert barked, I bolted for the deck and then we both saw the coyote standing on the opposite side of the chicken yard scaring the birds on the inside. The chicken yard is a massive affair at least 75 feet wide and easily 20 feet deep. It stands about 40 feet downhill from the house which means the coyote was close to 60 if not 70 feet from the back deck which is 20 feet up in the air.
Taking it upon herself, Suzy tore down the steps before I could stop her and ran towards the coyote barking and prepared to chase. Fortunately for her, the coyote gave up his prey easily and turned to run through the brush and trees towards our pond and then the neighbors heavily brushed property. He/she was joined by a second coyote I had not seen, flushed out by Suzy and she managed to chase both of them off as I whistled for her to come back before they turned and attacked her.
She responded after the coyote were off the property and came back to the house where she was rewarded with a cookie. However we were both too pumped with adrenaline to go back inside so we put up a guard on the deck while I called my husband to find out how and where his rifles were. He didn't respond because his phone was dead so I called his hunting buddy and asked how to fire a .22 guage rifle because that's the one that was readily available. Guns are not the same, this rifle was much older than many newer ones and did not operate the same way. I set it aside being familiar enough with weaponry to know that if you can't figure it out, guns are not something to be messed with. Never fingering the trigger I hoped I looked menacing to the coyotes.
My husband came home and the next day took me out to suggest options in riflery for what I had in mind. We went out on the back deck, put the dogs inside, and had demo lessons in operating the .22 which we did not shoot because it is such a powerful and deadly gun, and the shotgun, which he did allow me to shoot because the BBs can wound up close but only sting at a distance (so he explained). There was talk between him and his hunting buddy of filling the loads with corn starch to lessen the kick of the rifles but that's not what I shot off. Demonstrating the checking of chambers, safety mechanisms, pump action, and loading techniques, he chambered a round, directed my aim down the hill (away from the chickens) and told me to fire. I was aiming for an open space between an oak and a pine tree. The rifle kicked as I pulled the trigger and a small branch was amputated from an oak tree. I told him I wasn't aiming for the oak tree, he explained firing patterns for buckshot. We both looked up and circling overhead we counted 30 buzzards in flight. They roost in our pine trees, the loud return from the rifle caused them to take flight. I had no idea we had so many buzzards.
He went on to explain that while he was gone for 2 weeks he felt I'd be better off with the shotgun since if I shot the coyote what would I do with the carcass. I was watching the buzzards and pointed up. "They could probably take care of it." I suggested.
He got a concerned expression in his eyes, "I'm more worried about you shooting one of the dogs accidentally."
That sobered me up. Good point. I eyed the gun, heard the whining of our German Shepherd who does not like gun fire (a neighbor up the hill shoots practice loads into the hillside and she cowers when he does). "Real good point."
"What about an air horn?" I asked. "Wouldn't that accomplish the same thing?"
My husband was busy ejecting loads, emptying chambers and clearing his rifle. He shrugged.
"You might spook them."
When my father-in-law came home from traveling, a retired shipwright, I told him about the coyotes and asked him if he knew where I could find an airhorn. He explained that it's a Coast Guard requirement to have a horn of some kind on your vessels so I might try a boat shop.
I live near 3 lakes, over one hundred miles from the ocean, I didn't think the people on the boats up here minded Maritime Law much. I asked where I might find a boat shop with those kinds of supplies and he said that since I work in a county close to inland harbors, I should try a boat shop there. I had also heard of kids saying they used them as horns in their cars so maybe WalMart had them in their auto section.
My husband left his shotgun accessible and it was nice to know that if the coyotes didn't scare easily with the air horn I could at least drag it out and sting their pelts a little.
I thought I heard a buzzard say go for the .22 since dead meat was dead meat and he wasn't picky...coyote, dog, chicken...
Haven't seen the buzzards up in the trees since firing the shotgun. But then they've predicted a bad wind storm so maybe they've vacated for rockier, sturdier perches.
