Chicken Saga Continues

The chickens spend their nights in a dog crate in the kitchen of the farmhouse.  Only three chickens remain.  We don't know what's been killing them. They may have multiple predators. 

Last night, we were going to have a relaxing night of camping at the farmhouse. The farmhouse is a lot like a cabin.

After snacks, some 3DS games and reading we hit the hay about 11:30.
The chickens started sneezing around 1:15.

I thought about sleeping through it, but this wasn't our usual setting so I grabbed the phone and went to check it out.

The cat was lurking in front of the chicken cage and I hate to admit this, but it looked like he had disembowelled a rabbit there.  I really thought about going back to bed.  It looked to be a big rabbit.  Human size?  Something made me want a closer look. It. Was. A. Snake.

In the kitchen.  Sorry I didn't...
think to take pictures.

Skin left for us by Fluffy #1

Black rat snake about 5 feet long - a little one by our standards.  My son named it Tiny.  But please understand, it was bigger than the biggest garden snake you've ever seen.  It was probably the size of my wrist at the thickest part. 


It went out the door, came back in and disappeared behind the seed cabinet.  I spent 20 minutes dragging the seed cabinet outside while my son barricaded every drafty place behind it.  Then we went back to bed.  I'm not making that up.  We were tired.

At 3:20 it was back.  INSIDE the dog carrier with the chickens. 

I opened the cage and let the chickens loose in the kitchen.  Of coarse they pooped.
Before we could decide what to do with the snake in the cage, it slithered right through those little openings on the kennel door and headed for the kitchen door. 

Donated the shed skin to a museum.

It poked around the drafty places, then my son opened the door and it went out.  Just as it had done the first time, it tried to come back in.  This time I hit it on the head with a bamboo pole and it left.

We put the chickens back in the kennel, carried them to the car and went home. 

Poor cavemen.
We are the luckiest people ever that this story is stunning and not ordinary to us.