The coyotes are back. A goose was sitting on a nest next to our house, and she's gone. Her 18 eggs have been completely chilled, so the little goslings-to-be have perished. Jonathan found her head, neck, and a few feathers and bones in the woods, several hundred feet from the house. It had to be a coyote, as a raccoon couldn't carry a goose that far. Well, it doesn't have to be a coyote, but I'd prefer that to a wolf or mountain lion.
This was our last purebred female buff goose. We have three buff ganders, but they can't do much on their own. The rest of the geese are either embdens or crosses. This is terribly disappointing, since the guard dog has been sleeping on the front porch most nights. The llamas are in the pastures with the sheep and goats.
I started to get upset with us, thinking the attack could have been prevented if we'd finished that fence around the pond last fall, but last week, Katherine saw two coyotes across the road jump a fence with the ease of a deer. We will finish the fence, of course, but I am starting to think that I will just have to accept coyote losses as a normal part of life out here. Resignation is not my strong suit.