When I was growing up, we raised ducks, chickens, pigs, and horses. We didn't have a coyote problem back then, not like they have now, but owls, particularly those little bitty screech owls, (they're only about 8" tall or so, and don't realize they don't have the ass to carry a chicken off after they've killed it) and hawks used to get after the ducks and the chickens, and snapping turtles would get after the ducks.
I ate a lot of snapping turtles. I figured I was going to get my ducks back from them one way or another. I had a system for getting the snapping turtles. I mounted a hoe blade on the end of a 10 foot pole. Then I would sit on the bank and wait for the turtles to come up for air, and shoot them, usually in the face or snout, so that I didn't have to punch a bullet through the shell. When you shoot a turtle, they sink like a rock to the bottom. That is where the hoe came in handy - I would use it to claw the turtle out of the water.
On the day I turned 15, I had spent a few nights on the river cat-fishing, and the night before had caught a great big one. I took it home to clean it and cook it, and left it in the creek to keep it fresh while I cleaned up from the trip. When I went out to get it, lo and behold there was a snapping turtle trying to climb the long rock that the creek flowed over into the pond, with the objective of getting my hard-won catfish!
It never got the catfish, but I ate that turtle, too, for trying. And to keep it off the ducks.
Another time, I was out thrashing around in the brush downstream, about a mile from the house, when I ran across a snapping turtle on the land. Dumbassed me, I ran over to it and stepped on the middle of it's shell, then grabbed it by the tail and lifted it off the ground. I had nothing to kill it with, not even a knife, so I had to carry it home with the damned thing trying to eat me up every step of the way. I had to hold it out to the side at arm's length to keep it from biting me, all the way home. 10 pounds ain't much when you start out, but 10 pounds at arm's length over a course of a mile gets pretty wearisome. Having a desire to not get bitten by a turtle that won't turn loose does present an incentive to keep that arm out, despite the weariness and pain.
After that, I always made sure I had a knife on me when I went out thrashing around. I could step on their shell to immobilize them, then tap them on the snout with a stick. They'd get mad and bite the stick, and when a snapper bites, he hates to let loose. Because they'd hang on so tight to the stick, I could pull it and stretch their neck out, then take their head off with the knife just pretty as you please.
We had one duck who lost a toe to a snapper. Another one got half it's ass bitten off by a snapper when it was a duckling, but we doctored it up and it survived anyhow, half-assless.
The ducks we had were the big white ones. I forget the name of them, because we just called them "the ducks" One spring, a mallard drake came down in the middle of them, and took up residence with them. He'd fly off south every fall, but every spring after that he'd come back and spend the summers with our ducks. I don't think he realized he was a wild mallard, and thought that he was just another big white duck.
.Coyotes have become a nuisance there now, and they have a bounty on them over there - $50 bucks for a male, and $75 for a female, because the females can pop out litters of new nuisances.
The chickens we kept were "game" chickens or "figtin' chickens", and let me tell you, they really are "game"! I've seen them, more than once, fight off an attacking hawk... and win.
.
I ate a lot of snapping turtles. I figured I was going to get my ducks back from them one way or another. I had a system for getting the snapping turtles. I mounted a hoe blade on the end of a 10 foot pole. Then I would sit on the bank and wait for the turtles to come up for air, and shoot them, usually in the face or snout, so that I didn't have to punch a bullet through the shell. When you shoot a turtle, they sink like a rock to the bottom. That is where the hoe came in handy - I would use it to claw the turtle out of the water.
On the day I turned 15, I had spent a few nights on the river cat-fishing, and the night before had caught a great big one. I took it home to clean it and cook it, and left it in the creek to keep it fresh while I cleaned up from the trip. When I went out to get it, lo and behold there was a snapping turtle trying to climb the long rock that the creek flowed over into the pond, with the objective of getting my hard-won catfish!
It never got the catfish, but I ate that turtle, too, for trying. And to keep it off the ducks.
Another time, I was out thrashing around in the brush downstream, about a mile from the house, when I ran across a snapping turtle on the land. Dumbassed me, I ran over to it and stepped on the middle of it's shell, then grabbed it by the tail and lifted it off the ground. I had nothing to kill it with, not even a knife, so I had to carry it home with the damned thing trying to eat me up every step of the way. I had to hold it out to the side at arm's length to keep it from biting me, all the way home. 10 pounds ain't much when you start out, but 10 pounds at arm's length over a course of a mile gets pretty wearisome. Having a desire to not get bitten by a turtle that won't turn loose does present an incentive to keep that arm out, despite the weariness and pain.
After that, I always made sure I had a knife on me when I went out thrashing around. I could step on their shell to immobilize them, then tap them on the snout with a stick. They'd get mad and bite the stick, and when a snapper bites, he hates to let loose. Because they'd hang on so tight to the stick, I could pull it and stretch their neck out, then take their head off with the knife just pretty as you please.
We had one duck who lost a toe to a snapper. Another one got half it's ass bitten off by a snapper when it was a duckling, but we doctored it up and it survived anyhow, half-assless.
The ducks we had were the big white ones. I forget the name of them, because we just called them "the ducks" One spring, a mallard drake came down in the middle of them, and took up residence with them. He'd fly off south every fall, but every spring after that he'd come back and spend the summers with our ducks. I don't think he realized he was a wild mallard, and thought that he was just another big white duck.
.Coyotes have become a nuisance there now, and they have a bounty on them over there - $50 bucks for a male, and $75 for a female, because the females can pop out litters of new nuisances.
The chickens we kept were "game" chickens or "figtin' chickens", and let me tell you, they really are "game"! I've seen them, more than once, fight off an attacking hawk... and win.
.