Barn cats.

[walkin jack]

OP, That was a fine story well told! I enjoyed reading that a LOT. It kind of took me back to the days when my aunt and uncle had a dairy farm in Central Texas. They had 160 acres with some of it in sun flowers, some in maze, and some in pasture land. They usually had a herd of 120 to 150 milk cows and two bulls.

On the front of the property next to the highway they had the house, A turkey brooder, A hay barn, A feed lot and barn and the milking barn. I always got a kick out of watching the barn cats. Now these creatures were not in any way meant to be or considered to be pets. They had no names. They were not approachable by human or much of anything else. I never new how many there were as they were always moving around from the hay barn to the feed barn etc.

Their population would swell and shrink as there numbers rose and fell per the 'yotes and dogs etc could catch them. My uncle always had several large dogs on the place and they all made good sport of a cat now and then. but cats, as we know, are very prolific so there was always enough to keep the rodents and snakes under control.

My uncle always hated cats. But he was more than willing to admit that he didn't know what he'd do without his barn cats. He gave them credit for helping his dairy business be as profitable as it was.

It has only been about 8 years since I've been converted to a cat person (my wife calls me cat-daddy) we now have 3 of them. I look at them in their spoiled life of luxury and I have to tip my hat to the country/barn cat. Their lives are a lot more dangerous and a lot shorter usually and they have to work for a living.

God love a good barn cat.

 

[badguybuster]

I'm sympathetic. I've had to pop a couple of them for killing my barn cats

 

[4Js]

Thanks everyone for your kind words, and I'm very happy you guys enjoyed my little story. No, I've never written professionally. I just try to find humor in normal situations, whether it be barn cats, making stuff out of paracord, or getting kicked by a horse and ending up with five busted ribs. You can laugh at life, cry, or just be bored. Some of you have equally humorous stories.

 

[ChuckS1]

8 at my house at last count. All were supposed to be barn cats, but have taken up residence on the deck. No mice on the deck...

 

[Comrad]

You can still buy chucka boots, Clarks makes a great pair, a little more than the old 9.99 Thom McCann's of old but virtually the same boot.
Cool story.

 

[pineappleshooter]

I second that. 4Js, do you write professionally?

All the stories were wonderful and funny.

We've had coyotes in every county in Kentucky for at least forty years, and the crafty critters are very adept at living around humans.

I don't know about the rest of you, but in less settled, rural areas we've had problems hisgtorically with packs of feral dogs as well. They take a fair number of deer as well as pets and young farm animals. I don't hear as many reports of that these days as I did a few years ago, but in the past there have been organized hunts for wild dogs in Kentucky and southern Indiana.

Grew up in northern WV. My neighbor who was a farmer by trade and pro level turkey shooter on the side had a big problem with feral dogs. He would move his cows from field to field and the dogs would follow. After the dogs killed his favorite cow he decided to take action. He picked out his 3 favorite Remington 1100's and loaded them with OO buck. He loaded the dead cow in his back hoe and left a trail of it's meat and innards all the way to the barnyard. He dumped the carcass in the yard and sat down in his lawnchair approximately 25 yards away. Sure enough here comes a pack of 15-20 feral dogs barkin and howling after their free meal. Soon as they were in range he cut loose with the first 1100 and only paused long enough to change guns. Sounded like one long continuous shotgun blast. 14 dogs later the feral dog problem was solved - never saw so many parts flying everwhere - not even in the movies.

 

[O2Guy]

Great story and I love your writing style. A man's got to when to tune out. LOL

 

[reddogge]

I have a barn cat, black and white. I don't feed him nor try to approach him in any way and to my knowledge he doesn't live in any of my barns or outbuildings. The closest I have been to him was about 15 feet when I was bowhunting a ground blind and he was hunting in front of me. I spent the evening amazed at the patience of a cat hunting.

I do feel sorry for him on those bitter cold nights near dark when I see him still out in the field trying to catch his dinner. Bye the way we don't have many mice in the house between him and the black snakes in the crawlspace.

 

[rburg]

There's all kinds of critters that cause trouble and heartache. Back in my mid teens a friend's farm was in the middle of some big trouble. It seems a local hog went feral and just decided it was easier and safer not living in the pen. Then it discovered how much fun it was rootin' up a cornfield. Good eatin'. The final straw was when it discovered how good chicken tasted. A hog can easily go 800 to 1000# when full grown. Big, fat, and nasty.

Well, this one discovered how easy it was to just bust its way into even well built chicken coops. So it was gettin' kind of expensive. Not just the chickens but the repairs, too. So my dad, always generous, volunteered me to handle the problem. I was kind of flattered being nominated to be the Great White Hunter. My first and only such job.

Buy that point I had my own "arsenal" according to my anti-gun mother. I had my 20 gauge, with both buck and rifled slugs, and better still, I had my $10 Bruno Mauser. The 8mm variety. Dad even bought me a full box or 20 sporter grade round nose soft points! I was movin' up in the world. And the best part of it all was I was given a cooler full of soft drinks and a big paper grocery bag full of snacks! Life couldn't get much better.

The deal was the big old hog was kind of like a circuit judge. It ran a cirlce up Eagle Creek. Hittin' one farm and then the next, not moving too fast or far each day. So we kind of knew which evening he was due.

So I was sent up into the hayloft with the doors swung open and latched. I was told not to fall out (fathers!) But I had a crystal radio (anyone remember those?) Lights that would pretty much illuminate the southern half the county, and a target that didn't care one bit if he was seen. So about dark I set up my "blind" and got comfy. I was kind of afraid I'd fall asleep and miss all the fun. That was what the coke and Mountain Dew were for. I'd loaded up my two gun compliment and had decided the 8mm was the gun of choice until I ran it out of ammo. Then instead of reloading, I'd just move to the shotgun.

All was well. It took till the 2nd night for the fun. About 4 in the morning I heard some noise, grunting and stuff. It was hitting the side of the coop like a bulldozer. Forget the door, it was aiming to bust the side out. I had some bailing twine tied to the light switch/lever downstairs. All I needed to do was give it a good pull and it would move the lever to the up/on position. I could see the darn thing plain as day, but my instructions were clear, light him up. So I did and he just didn't care one bit. First shot was right behind the leg, half way up. I was behind him and it quartered forward into the opposite shoulder. It sure made him mad.

But my instructions were made clear. Keep shooting as long as I could see him. So I took a 2nd shot, just a little back and straight through. He laid down and grunted and kicked some. Then he stopped. I was considering the alternatives. My dad would be really mad if he got up and ran off. But that box of round nose bullets had cost almost $5 full dollars, and wasting something that expensive just didn't seem right. So I kept looking and he wasn't heaving his chest at all. After a few hours he was really dead. So I had another soft drink, ate some chips, and tried to relax.

About 6 the farmer came out and was yelling at me. He wanted to know what all the shooting was about. So I came down and we walked over to the now dead critter. No crawling on my hands and knees through a thicket, no facing it down as it charged me. More like shooting fish in a barrel.

The farmer was very pleased. I'd rid the valley of an expensive nuisance. The farmer said "well, lets get him to town". He had an old sign, sheet steel maybe 8' by 6'. We drug it over to where the carcass was and he used a chain on the back legs. Just like a stuck car. But the tractor just pulled it on the sheet metal. Then we pulled the whole mess over to the block and tackle up on the barn. We hauled the thing up in the air and he backed his pickup truck under it. Lowered it down and we went to town. They had a meat cutter there who was a little upset we hadn't gutted it, but he got over it. The old guy just told him to make sausage out of it, the whole hog. Just kind of like the Jimmy Dean commercials said.

I went home figuring I had a career in front of me, ridden' the world of nasty critters. I was happy and satisfied just gettin' to keep the other 18 shells and the remains of the bag of snacks. A couple of days later (Saturday) we went back to the old guy's farm. I'd become a local hero and they even paid me a full $20. Took up a collection from everyone's who's farm had been messed with! And dad got his 40# of sausage. Some folks didn't want any, said it was probably bad meat. Those that took theirs didn't complain about that. I ate a little but didn't like it. I told dad it tasted just like chicken! He liked that.

That's been over 50 years now.

 

[rburg]

Ya know, if you've got a dog a nice treat for them is the last bite out of your sandwich. Cats are harder to please. But few cats these days hang out in dairy barns. They don't get much cream. So if you've got a paper plate and a can of whipped cream, give them a squirt the size of an orange. Soon they'll be looking for you at bed time.

 

[Hack]

My mouse assassin:

The other house cat (the orange one - the grey/white one belonged to my daughter) could care less about hunting for anything other than his cat dish.

 

[model70hunter]

Barn Cats, feral dogs, hogs and poisonous Vipers.

Barn cats, all of these were my little sisters named loved ones. A large feral Tom started raiding the barn killing a litter of kittens, for those of you that have heard the noises of a mother cat trying to protect her young you know how loud it is. I was in my teens but had lucked into a Gen 2 SAA in 38 Special. When the squealing started on the 2nd night I grabbed my Colt and flash light and sprinted to the barn. One 38 wad cutter hand load and the humongous Feral Tom bypassed hospice and laid down. My little Sister fawned over me for saving her baby kittens. Heck I felt like John Wayne at the end of the movie.
Pit Vipers; our house, barn and garden were close to the bluffs over looking a river. Dad had 200 acres, every spring the Copper heads migrated from their dens in the bluffs out onto our farm and the farms beyond. But first they had to go thru our barn, chicken house and out buildings.You had to watch where you stepped, you did not put your hand in a egg nest or feed bin with out first looking, sure they were after the rodents, but a little touchy when crowded. I "bagged" 30-40 each spring as did my younger brother. My sister's cats would bring home garter and small snakes to eat on the front porch, lots of times they came home with half their head swollen double for trying to add Copper heads to their diets. The farm dogs would often come home with half their head swollen.

Hogs; dad went into the hog business, he put them in the 40 acres between our house and the bluff. One would have been hard pressed to find any kind of snake after that. Yes hogs will eat snakes.
Feral Dogs; I had a Remington 788 in 22-250 and a 4-12 scope on it. Cheap but super accurate rifle and one I should have kept. One day my brother ran into the house like the Devil was in pursuit. He had gone to a back pasture to get his horse. My brother was about 12 then, he had hounds and Coon hunted, he grew up around dogs and already knew them well. There was a pack of town dogs that ran loose, when they left town and crossed into farm land they reverted to feral, they were harassing cattle and killing goats and baby pigs. Local farmers had seen them doing this, but you can not posse up, ride into town and hang all the killer dogs. On this day they spotted my brother and came running, he climbed a tree and they tried to get him, snarling and growling. He said he felt like a treed coon. The dogs finally left, headed across our farm in the general direction of town. I grabbed the 22-250 and we ran to cut them off. We won that race, barely. They saw us and hit high gear. I hit the big mix alpha dog behind the shoulder and took out 3 more of the large dogs. I quickly jammed in a couple more rounds and hit 2 more in the caboose. No more killed goats, piglets, cattle chasing or little Brothers treed. Did I enjoy that job? No, it is part of a farm boys job. Folks, GI's on orders or getting out of the service would constantly drop off cats and dogs on our farm lane. The city dogs not knowing any better would usually go into chicken killing to survive. I used Dad's 270 with 110 grain HP bullets on quite a few of the dogs that would not come up to the house but laid out in the brush and became chicken killers. If they came up to the house Dad would take them to the Army dog pound. I did not really wish to harm the dogs, but Mom sold eggs and we ate lots of chickens. A pair of Boxers killed 40 some chickens one day. Dad got the Female the next morning, thinking this was a lone dog act we let the chickens out, 20 some killed the next day. We left them locked up, walking home from school I saw a Boxer male trying to break into the chicken house, I slipped in the back door and grabbed the 270. As I stepped out the front door he saw me and headed for the back of the barnyard, When hit behind the shoulder he folded and rolled end over end. I did really hate the fools who just dropped off dogs and let them become someone else's problem. I would have liked for them to witness what they caused.....

A rabid hound treed Dad once and I took the dog out with that same 38 Special SAA colt, truly a gun I should have kept. It was traded in on a 29-2 44 Mag. It was very, very effective on chicken killers. I love Dogs, my lab is lying across my feet as I type this. I did what I had to do, but felt sad for the Dog every time. On the snakes, I did not feel sad........ Heck we kept scores.....

 

[model70hunter]

4Js, I've Mule deer hunted in WY. Folks worry about a big ole Griz, but on warmer days ya gotta watch where you put your feet. I carried a 357 just for Rattlers around camp. Some days it seemed like there was a rattler sunning on every rock.

 

[Old TexMex]

Though Coyote of a different sort, this comes to mind: the smuggler of poor souls from Mexico is the lowest of all creatures. The Coyote takes money, and will leave a young peasant,and his child to die in the desert, and sell his young wife into slavery. Some men have spent time in the small border towns, and further afield down south of the border, hunting that evil creature- Coyote. One man I know well,spent years, donning the clothes of a peasant campesino, joining the line in the brush country, to locate and apprehend the coyote. It is scary, exciting, boring, hard and hungry work, but some are driven to hunt and sometimes kill those evil predators. Those coyotes are the lowest spawn of hell, they have none of the redeeming qualities of the four legged creature. Sometimes I miss the hunt.

 

[pineappleshooter]

The same neighbor of 3 1100's fame also had the biggest, meanest, one-eared siamese cat I have ever seen. Appropriately named Sampson. Sampson would sit on the front steps and survey his kingdom. To get rid of stray dogs we would toss them treats and lead them up to the front steps - Sampson did the rest! Saw him ride a Saint Bernard about 100 yards across the field with fur flying all the way!

You city boys didn't have this much fun.