Tuesday, January 03, 2017

Dirty Work and Hosing off the Evidence

Dirty Work and Hosing off the Evidence

There was a murder in the backyard a couple of days ago. I’m not sure if it was actually day time or nighttime. The evidence shows that it happened at or before dusk. It’s quite a mystery and I’m no sleuth. The victim looked as if she were trying to escape, but was attacked from behind. Her body may have been there a day or two before she was found. Not much was left of her. Could it be that the local wildlife consumed most of her? Or was the murder suspect responsible for this?
There was another murder. Today. Again, it was in the backyard, but there is no mystery surrounding this one. She wrapped her gloved hand around the victim’s neck and began to squeeze. She held on to what seemed to be an eternity. As the victim struggled, the anger that had been welling up inside her had given her the strength, both physically and mentally, to continue with the deed. She began to shake the victim violently; she couldn’t believe that she was even capable of such an act.
Her friends would describe her as a kind, patient, motherly type with a small boned structure and a curvy figure, not much muscle tone.  She was known to not only take in and feed anyone who would stop by the house, but would love and care for animals, both wildlife and the resident pets. What on earth would cause this caring soul to carry out such a heinous deed?
Earlier, while performing her chores in the backyard. She stumbled upon a nest. Not the kind of nest you would find cradling a bird, but one that was mostly hidden under a make shift brooder, repurposed from a chest of drawers. As she moved the chest, a huge, and I mean HUGE, rat sprang desperately out from behind. It sprinted across the yard and under a set of shelves holding several five gallon cans of gasoline. She yelled for her son Sam to grab his pellet gun and come out to the backyard. Both Sam and his dad came running out of the house ready to shoot. She pointed to where she thought the rat had escaped to hide. She grabbed a piece of PVC pipe that had been lying unpurposely around the yard. She poked it under the shelving unit and realized that there was another nest that had been constructed by this or another rat. As she jabbed at it with the pipe, the enormous rat darted past so quickly that Sam had no time to aim. It raced under an old Airstream refrigerator that had been sitting out, rusting in the yard.
Earlier in the week, she had seen this, or a very similar scoundrel, scurrying out of the chicken coop.  She detested those rodents. They would take cover in the day and then gorge on chicken feed at night. She knew it was common for rats to exist in the neighborhood. There was even a field behind the house where gophers, rats and the likes would dwell. But the thought of those good-for-nothing scoundrels taking up residence in her very own yard made her blood boil. She looked around the yard and realized the many spots where rats could build a home. Like under wood piles, or sandbags, under items that were placed along the sides of the house because there was just no place to store them. She noticed that the dog poop hadn’t been picked up in days. The chicken coop was in need of attention and  stunk because of the rain. The lawn was unkempt and needing attention. The weeds were overtaking the garden and the patio hadn’t been swept in what seemed to be ages. Although she was mostly responsible for this, her mind went to the fact that there were two strong grown sons living in the home. Why weren’t they offering to help? Heck, she would cook them meals and clean up after them as they watched TV, played video games or Pokémon. Yes, they all had jobs, but she never had a day off. She let her mind fuel the anger that burned inside her.
They gave up on exterminating the rat and went on to their business. As she set off to continue her chores she noticed that one of her beloved chickens was not doing well. Ember, one of her very first chicks that she raised from a day old, was standing inside the coop facing a wall. She remembered that the day before, Ember was in the same position. Upon closer examination she noticed that something looked odd about her eyes. Had they been pecked out or eaten out? Were they infected? She was definitely blind. She couldn’t find her way out of the coop. She was so very weak. She could not find the food or water. Ember was suffering; she knew that something had to be done. Ember was her best layer back in the day, but now she is going on seven years old. Ember needed to be euthanized. But who? How? She asked Sam if he would do it. He said he didn’t know how. She asked him to google it but he walked off and didn’t come back. She asked her husband to do it, he too didn’t have the heart. She realized that it needed to be done and it was she that was going to have to do it. The anger that had welled up inside of her earlier had come back. Why did SHE have to do it?
As she shook the victim, trying to break her neck, Ember’s wings flapped around as if this would help her to escape. Although her neck was probably already broken, the fact that Ember was still struggling caused her to shake her even harder. Her adrenaline was flowing and it seemed like the task would never end. Then all of a sudden, Ember’s body flung across the chicken run. As Ember ran frantically around, she realized the chicken’s head was still in her hand. She was trying to control the panic that was welling up from the pit of her stomach to the center of her chest. The area inside the run was small. She tried to steer clear of Ember as she flapped and ran around uncontrollably, but the chicken continue to bounce off her feet leaving smudges of blood smeared on her rubber shoes. She grabbed the garbage bag she had waiting to contain the chicken, threw the head in it and tried to catch the scrambling chicken. At last, with the chicken in the bag, she looked at her hands. Her gloves were stained with blood as were her shoes and sock. She bowed her head and asked for forgiveness.  She was glad that there was no one around to witness such a scene. She was sad as she understood that she had lost two of her sweet chickens in one week. She threw away her gloves, took off her shoes and hosed them off.

We Got Him!


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