By Kelli Bowen
Here in the eastern part of the state, we live in a river valley on the edge of a small town. In the evening, it is not uncommon to hear coyotes chatting in the not-too-distant hills. There’s a rooster pheasant who frequents our backyard to cut from the meadow behind our house to the pasture across the road. Once it gets cold, deer also use our yard as a cut-through to the farmer’s yard across the way, who leaves food out for the deer. These sightings usually uptick as the mercury plunges, but two nights ago, as the weather still was sweat-inducing, we had an unexpected visitor.
Miss A enjoys me “putting her to bed” because there’s a greater than 70% chance I’ll fall asleep. I am one of those people everyone hates who can fall asleep anywhere, and I can fall asleep quickly. I once fell asleep while getting a 20-minute massage in Vietnam, but that’s another story.
Anyhoo, I put Miss A to bed, so I woke up around 11:30 and headed down to my own bed. I stopped by the window that overlooks our crabapple tree and saw something having a snack. It is common to see deer, but this was shorter. As it moved out from the shadows, I saw it was a lone coyote. Having his fill of fermented ground apples, he headed toward the chicken coop.
I flew to the back door, realizing it’s midnight and we have neighbors, I grabbed my childhood BB gun threw open the door and fired at the coyote.
I’m sure “yelling middle-aged, half-dressed, sleep-deprived, momiac” wasn’t on his Bingo card for the night, so he turned tail and got the heck out of there.
I returned to the house, grabbed some sandals and a flashlight, and went out again. I saw eyes on the other end of our property, so I pumped a couple BB’s that direction while cursing the coyote mother and the next four generations. I doubt the BBs were even reaching the coyote, it was just making me feel better at this point.
I went and stood on our back stoop planning my next move and here comes Wile E Freaking Coyote again, so I wait until he takes a few steps into the yard, rattle the BBs and start after him like I’m going to tear him limb from limb.
I walked the road with my mini mag light and saw no sign, so I decided to get a lawn chair and set up shop in the darkness. I sat and watched the shadows clutching my little Daisy BB gun, until Hubby came out wondering how his wife lost her mind this time.
He set up a floodlight near the yard critters, and my toes were cold, so I went in and watched for a while until sleepiness returned. We haven’t lost anyone yet. If you see a half-dressed, half-nutty woman rocking in a yard chair with a Daisy BB gun, mind your business. She’s saving the chickens.
Kelli, a North Dakota girl through and through, has made her home from the eastern prairies to the western badlands with her supportive Hubby, two daughters, and ever-growing menagerie accompanying her along the way.