the thieving magpie

One of the most distinguishing things about this farm is the number of dogs that roam the property. Off the top of my head I can think of about 8. There is hardly enough space on here to discuss each dog’s distinct personality and their interpersonal drama with the other dogs in the neighborhood, but trust me – the plots and story lines are never-ending.

A few weeks after I began working here, a big white dog appeared. She was extremely friendly and whenever we went near her house, she would then follow us around for a little while. Usually she would tail us for an hour or so, then wander off. As time has gone on, Maggie now follows us everywhere and for HOURS, often for the length of the entire day. In fact, this tailing has gotten so intense that it is nearly impossible to get Maggie to go away. When we go inside for our breaks, I literally close the door in her face but she will wait there until we come out. Sometimes she even sneaks into the house after we go inside - we have no idea how she gets in. In short, we can’t get rid of her.

And frankly, until recently we haven’t really wanted to (except when she’d roll around in the green beans while we were trying to pick them; yes, she has a tendency of laying on [more accurately] destroying whatever we are working on). What we learned about Maggie is that she’s a sweet dog. She’s an old, white, arthritic dog who just loves company and is fiercely loyal to us for some bizarre reason. While the other dogs in the neighborhood vary in temperament, many of them possessing angry and aggressive natures, Maggie is kind, jovial and peaceful.

Or so we thought.

A couple of weeks ago, when Maggie began to get really close to us, she followed us to our house which is where the goats are. Suddenly and without warning she began barking, jumping and intimidating the goats through the fence. She was growling and running around like she was crazy. This behavior was totally out of character! We had never seen this aggressive side of Maggie. But, we began to notice that whenever she was around other animals, this was precisely how she acted.

Simultaneously, Farmer John brought 45 chickens to our farm. They were placed in their own little gated pen and they have a trailer inside of the pen where they sleep. Each morning we let them out of their trailer into the yard, and each evening we lock them up. They’re here to clean up the fields. Every few days we move them around to new parts of the farm and they eat whatever is leftover so we can sow the soil for the new crops. Personally, I love the chickens. They’re adorable.

The problem is that apparently, the chickens love us, too. In the mornings after we let them out of their trailer, they fly over their fence and follow us as we walk away from their pen. We then have to chase them down and put them back in. Often, this will happen several times per day. We have warned John about this and he installed a 2nd fence so they they can’t go through the holes anymore (this was their first escape route), but they’re still able to fly over since its only 4 feet high.

Well, Maggie was pretty happy when the chickens came, because that meant she had more animals to torment. In one moment she’s all licks and wags, the next barks and growls. Her favorite thing seems to be to run (full-speed!) toward the fence and scare the living hell out of the chickens so they crowd into another corner of the pen. She will then circle around to the other side of the pen and do the same thing. In short, Maggie is a mean bitch.

Despite Maggie’s aggressive behavior with the chickens, nothing bad had happened. We did a good job of rescuing the strays before Maggie appeared and put them back in their pen. But one week ago, all of this changed.

On Saturday, a chicken escaped and Ivan asked me to go put it back into the pen. So, I wandered over and began to chase the chicken around, trying to grab it. (They’re incredibly fast.) Unfortunately, I didn’t realize Maggie was behind me and she began to chase the chicken, too. I was on one side, Maggie was on the other. Except Maggie had blood on her mind.

Again, I had seen Maggie do this several times before, so I wasn’t really concerned that something tragic might happen in a mere few seconds. In fact I was standing still while Maggie chased the chicken near me, hoping the chicken would run close and I could scoop her feathery self up and plop her back into the pen. Unfortunately, Maggie turned on the heat, and instead of flying back into the pen (the poor chicken was trying to squeeze through the fence holes because she was so scared) she hid in a bush. It became really quiet all of a sudden. No one was moving, not me, not Maggie, not the chicken. I wasn’t sure if I should go pluck her out of the bush or wait for her to come out. Unfortunately, Maggie made a decision before I did. She pounced on the bush and I heard the poor chicken scream, and then suddenly Maggie emerged, a mass of feathers in her mouth. She trotted away and disappeared for two hours. Breakfast.

This was one of the most horrifying things I have ever seen in my life. I’ve never seen an animal murdered directly in front of me, much less in a fashion so bloody and vicious. Further, I am really attached to both the chickens and to Maggie. The thought that the dog we considered to be our friend could so gruesomely murder our cute little chicken pal was incredibly upsetting.

So, I’m mad at Maggie. I haven’t really spoken to her much this week. Instead, I toss her mean glances and refuse to pet her even when she licks my fingers.

And sadly, the chickens are still getting out of the pen. John is researching techniques to keep them in there, but for now, we’re still chasing them down most mornings. Luckily, Emily has a lot more patience with Maggie than I do, so she has been keeping her away from the chickens while Matt and I rescue them.

It was a rough day, and a tough week. And I am left with mixed feelings about this. I keep blaming Maggie for being vicious, but friends insist that she was just following her animal instincts. Emily tells me that I eat chicken too, so I’m really no different. So I guess I’m wondering, is that true? Am I a vicious murderer? Or am I being too hard on the Magpie?