Morning after morning I find the dead livestock,
First a chicken, then a goat;
Not a regular predator,
Because the wounds are always at the throat.
I tried to be rational,
Because coyotes are regular around here;
But when the first heifer was taken out,
That's when I first new real fear.
I took sentry in the second story window,
I kept the lights out, and shotgun in hand;
I watched my farm from my vantage point,
Protector of my land.
Several nights passed without a glimpse,
I was angry, and felt I like a fool;
But the first night back in bed,
The attacker got ahold of my mule.
With a new plan, I took root in my barn,
But the sleepless nights were catching up with me;
I fell asleep in the loft,
When morning came I was beyond angry.
But as I climbed down the ladder,
My head became very dizzy;
My farmhand was dead on the ground,
And I realized blood was covering me.
