“Your responsibility to be ready for the fight never ends.” Such was the phrase that James Yeager, founder and owner of Tactical Response, used to end all of his videos for many years prior to his untimely passing. That simple statement encapsulates the mindset necessary to be an armed citizen in one simple sentence. Recently, that advice came into play as I was home alone and preparing for bed.
The Incident
The time was about 2200 hours and I was ready to be done for the night. I had already changed into my sleep shorts and t-shirt. Getting up from my comfortable grandpa chair, I was met by my dog midway across the living room as he headed to the front door and performed the excited, “I need to go out” dance.
It’s not uncommon to have a few local deer interloping in our front yard at that time of night so I figured, ‘let him do his job and be the guardian’, so I opened the door and out he shot into the darkness, barking the whole way. I turned away and took only a few steps into the kitchen area when I heard a cacophony going on in the chicken barn. The ladies were raising hell to the point that I could hear it through the closed door.
It was long after sunset and all the hens should have been roosting and fast asleep. The noise of them carrying on set my hair on end. We’ve had issues with foxes and coyotes in the past. My mind started to race as I reached out and grabbed a high-powered flashlight from the shelf in the kitchen where it lives.
Running to the bedroom I grabbed my carry gun, staged in the place it always is when I’m not wearing pants. The last thing I did was slip on my flip-flops before heading out the back door to the barn. The total time from when I heard the chickens to being out the door might have been fifteen seconds.
Illuminating my way with the flashlight held in my left hand and a pistol in my right, I scanned the entire area rapidly as I moved to the gate of the fence that surrounds the barn. It was closed up tight. My mind was racing. Did I forget to close and latch the barn door tightly? Nope. Was the small chicken door, which opens and closes on a timer, still open? Nope. I reached the chicken barn door, worked the latch, and flung it open.
In the bright LED light, my first sight was a freshly killed chicken, a big Barred Rock hen. Immediately I flooded the interior with the flashlight, the rest of the hens continued their squawking, some were perched up high, some were on the barn floor running around in circles.
Then, in the far corner across from the door I spotted him, the biggest skunk I’d ever seen in my life. Only about ten feet separated us. We locked eyes and I knew that it was either him or me. As I have a thousand times before, I punched out the GLOCK 48 pistol in my right hand while holding the flashlight in my left up around my head and shoulders. No double-tap or controlled pair was necessary. The first and only shot, a Black Hills 100 gran HoneyBadger bullet, connected with his head. I would not be getting sprayed that night.
Moving into casualty assessment mode, I checked all the renaming members of the flock the best I could as well as all the nooks and crannies in the chicken barn. My big Barred Rock was the only fatality, other than the stinky predator.
So, there I was, sometime after 2200 hours, standing in my skivvies and flip-flops now having to dispose of a murdered hen and her smelly, deceased killer. Not at all the way I had envisioned my night going less than ten minutes prior.
Lessons Learned
I shared that nocturnal adventure story with a few friends, to include our intrepid editor, to whom I promised an “after-action/lessons learned” piece. First, to get it out of the way for the curious, the skunk had dug under the wall of the barn at the foundation to gain access to the chickens. Secondly, for all of those who are saying, “I thought skunks only stole eggs.” Yeah, me too, until I caught one in the act of chicken murder. The deceased offender was about the size of a badger. WTF?
We can all have a chuckle at my expense, imagining me bagging up a dead skunk before bedtime, but there are there some genuine lessons to be learned.
First, if you have a big dog at home as a member of your household security team, trust their instincts. Yes, I know that there might have been a dozen, or even a hundred times, when your dog has barked but you didn’t see anything. Folks, your dog’s sense of smell is over a thousand times better than yours.
A few years ago, our dog was going berserk at the front window. I checked outside, looked in the driveway and all around the house and didn’t see anything. Of course, I said to the dog, “It’s okay, there’s nothing out there.”
He persisted and finally, I looked farther. It was day time, and there it was, a coyote loping around in the cattle pasture some two hundred yards away. It was the neighbor’s pasture, so I didn’t feel comfortable taking a shot over their fence. Of course, I saw my neighbor a few days later and related the story to him, to which he replied, “Shit, you should have shot that S.O.B.”
The point is, just because you don’t see what your dog is barking at doesn’t mean it’s not there.
Second, put the important things where they are easy to find and in the same place all the time. I naturally own more than one “tactical light.” However, there’s one very bright, rechargeable LED light that’s always staged in the same place, on the same shelf in the middle of the house where it can be grabbed while going toward the front or back door. Everyone in the house knows where it is and that it’s to remain there unless it’s being used.
When I dress myself in the morning I attach a pistol to my body and it stays there until I take my pants off at night. Even if I’m not planning to leave the house, I’m armed during the majority of my waking hours.
When it’s time to take off the pants, my carry gun is removed and put in the exact same place. Always. I don’t have to think, “Where is my gun right now?” I can find it in the dark if I need to. Yes, I also have a rifle staged, but in this situation, something said, grab a light and your pistol. It was pitch black outside with no moon.
As long as I’ve been raising chickens, I hate losing one to a predator. To be honest, it pisses me off. The silver lining of that night was that I caught the killer in the act and didn’t have to find the aftermath of a chicken massacre in the morning after the suspect had slipped away.
No, it wasn’t a life-or-death situation, but it was a good reminder that your responsibility to be ready for the fight never ends.
Paul G. Markel is a combat decorated United States Marine veteran. He is also the founder of Student of the Gun University and has been teaching Small Arms & Tactics to military personnel, police officers, and citizens for over three decades.
The overall message was clear and the supporting details made it more convincing. I would enjoy a future article that explores one of these points in greater depth.