Last night I decided to make a run to get some chicken wire to cover the top of the chicken pen. The tarp is great for shade and to keep the girls dry, but I kept thinking that if a smart (and heavy) fox jumped on top of it, it may well give way. Hence, the chicken wire idea.
So I pick that up at the local feed store, figuring I’ll get an early start on Saturday morning to further securing the chicken pen. Later that evening, I take Dog outside for his final run of the night, and I no sooner open the door but that I hear one of the local foxes barking. The fox was close, somewhere around the end of the lane.
So I go back outside, now armed with my headlamp and what turns out to be the world’s dullest pair of wire cutters, to secure the chicken pen, all the while serenaded by the barking fox. The barking continued for well over half an hour, perhaps even 45 minutes. Sometimes it was a little closer, sometimes a bit further away. When a fox barks, it usually doesn’t mean, "Hey, over here! Free food." It’s more a "Where are you? I am here" call to the mate or kids so the separated foxes can reunite. Still, it’s not the kind of thing I want to hear that close to the chickens.
The girls, asleep in their domed litter box, seem unperturbed during the entire tarp-covering process. Eventually I get the wire cut and the tarp covered with chicken wire. I still need to do something more around the bottom of the pen, but I think I’m okay for now. When I went back inside, the fox was still barking.
My photo this Friday is the view from my cabin of the mountain to the west. Can’t see it? Neither can I. Hopefully it will still be there in the fall. Oh, and you can just see the edge of the chicken wire-covered pen in the lower, left-hand corner of the photo.