No
need to spell out the rest of this sombre quotation. We have
suffered one tragedy in the fields of La Chaise, another nearer the
main house.
The
lambs and their mothers have been in the fields for many days now,
coming in only at night. Then, a couple of days ago Alexandre mooted
the notion of leaving the flock out overnight. I thought it was a
good idea. The weather was clement and it took a lot of time, much
rattling of the maize pan, plus encouragement from (H)aska the
not-quite sheep dog, to get the newly liberated sheep back inside.
This way time could be spent mucking out and mending their winter
quarters.
 |
| Tonight we stay out... |
To
shorten the suspense, yes some beast had killed a grown lamb
overnight in the field, torn off a back leg to be exact. This is not
the first time we have experienced such a death. The last occurrence
was when Bianca (Beauceron mostly) and Elvis-Non! were still in
residence. Then a fawn had been killed in the same manner. In both
cases the suspicion falls on a dog, a lost hunting dog or an
abandoned pet.
We
had some warning that a killer animal was around for a wounded badger
was discovered by (H)aska, the day before the lamb's death, under the
main house terrace. The crawl space there is not very salubrious but
Audrey, with torch, did her best to see what was the matter.
Apparently there was a large wound on the badger's back. It was
obviously dying, Audrey thought. She
was more than saddened for she thought the badger might be a pregnant
female – a badger has been seen very recently prospecting for a
home around the main house.
When
there is a
wounded or trapped wild animal, we call on the local chasse
to despatch it – coypu or
pine martens and similar.
The chasse
members are trained shots.
We are not. It is a service offered to us by the chasse
as its members have much appreciated our well kept pine plantation,
wild boar heaven, apparently.
For
those who, understandably, instinctively refuse to believe a trained
pet could kill, here follows the story of the empress Czeta and her
son, Edward the Black Prince of La Chaise. Czeta was an intelligent
labrador. She could open – and close – doors! She held
policemen at bay but not the postie. She knew our friends. Also
she had been forcibly trained not to kill chickens, a diesel soaked
carcass attached to her neck, both shut in a dark place overnight.
Nasty. But she taught her son ..to kill chickens. Then he had to be
discouraged in the same manner.
