Last night I was in the basement when I heard a screeching bird. I wasn't even sure which type of bird -- chicken or turkey? I didn't think it was a duck or a goose though. It was definitely a bad sound, but I knew that by the time I got up the stairs and out the door, everything would be over. Luckily Katherine was closer to the situation.
It appears there was a scuffle in front of the barn. There were turkey feathers on the ground, and there was a very upset turkey hen sitting on the fence with only three tail feathers that looked "slobbery," according to Katherine. She also said there was a goose stuck in the fence. As she was freeing the goose, she saw something out of the corner of her eye run into the woods. I don't know what spooked it and caused it to give up on its turkey dinner, but I'm glad it decided to move on.
Two weeks ago, another goose wasn't so lucky. I was eating my breakfast, looking out the window at the pond, loving my idyllic view. Then in the glass of my china cabinet, I saw a reflection of something large and brown struggling with something white. I jumped up and ran to the dining room door in time to see a coyote dragging off a goose. I threw open the door and started screaming. I heard a scream coming from an upstairs window, and a moment later, Katherine was on the deck with me. She informed me that she was going after it. Mike and I have both tried to track coyotes with prey and have had no luck, so it seemed pointless to me. I felt defeated.
After 15 or 20 minutes, Katherine emerged from the woods carrying the goose. It was easy to tell that it was quite dead. Its long neck was hanging down from her arms. I wasn't sure if I was happy or not. The goose was dead, and there was still a hungry coyote in the woods.