This Morning

Before the Sun began to rise, something in the blue light of  pre-dawn woke me. I came full awake out of a blissful sleep. I could not understand why, but like a neon sign in my head, all I could think about was securing the door to one of our chicken tractors. I dismissed the thought and because I could not sleep, I decided to get up and enjoy the bluish light show playing across the midsummer sky. Beautiful weather and low humidity welcomed me to another fine day in Wisconsin. The wind itself rustled through branches high above our tiny little house and not a cloud had appeared yet in the early morning sky. A distinctly cool and fresh breath of air made it's way to my lungs through the open window and I knew that I had to be awake. Something about this day demanded my attention. To my surprise, the chickens were restless as well. Something had them on alert and their vigorous clucking told me that something was amiss. I got up with purpose less than five minutes earlier, but "the girls" would soon be glad that I did.
I looked out the kitchen window and saw a slinking tail, dark and ominous, stalking the wire mesh of the coop and I wished that I had easier access to my pellet gun. I assumed that one of the local cats was harassing the birds. I slid on shoes and immediately ran out the back door to get a better look at the culprit. The long, low, shadowy figure had disappeared behind the garden fence and I went around the other side, hoping to see the interloper but whatever it had been, but whatever it was had not waited to let me see it. The chickens had quieted, but again piped up. When I came back to calm them I saw a second creature inside he coop. A raccoon had found the weak link in the cage and got in, but could not get out of the coop. The poor thing was really wishing that it had not gotten in. The jig was up and the masked intruder, comfortable with anonymity, was having none of the fact that they were caught in the refrigerator sized cage along with tho irate birds. Like the dogs in our neighborhood, as much as they may be attracted to the chickens, thinking they could be food or playthings, once they get close, they seem completely unprepared for the ruckus the hens can make.

Pearl, our iridescent black Australorp, had herself between Pepper, our smaller barred rock and was doing her best to fend off the wary 'coon. In the end, all I had to do was to open the access door that we use to feed and water the birds and our unwelcome friend made a hasty retreat back to his realm down by the riverbank. Before the interloper was released, he seemed to be feverishly trying to get away from the birds and it was a little hard to not feel sorry for the bugger. Anxious raccoon is never a great thing to wake up to so I was glad that it just needed a route of escape to set things right. The two birds, who are recent additions to our yard, seemed to recognize that I was their defender and came by me, thanking me in their own way, for securing their cage. All was right in their world and I felt a certain sense of pride knowing that quick thinking and rapid action on my part averted a catastrophe for them.