scripture classifies a bunch of living things as pestilence. i kill pestilence. mosquitoes in my house and yard, flies in my kitchen, mice that poop in my bags of brown rice, yep. i kill them. in front of anyone-- no problem.
once my husband tried to pull a mouse off a sticky trap, but its feet stayed on. that was really bad. the old mousetraps work better. fast. decisive. final.
pestilence is bad.
my husband has killed small animals to eat them. but i made him stop squirrel hunting when we got married. when i opened my freezer to see a half dozen bodies that looked like naked headless babies, i made him stop. well, at least i demanded he freeze them and cook them somewhere else beside my kitchen. it seemed too much trouble to him, so he stopped hunting squirrels.
i killed a few chickens to eat them. my kids watched. they screamed and shrieked because chickens really do run around with their heads cut off. and spurt lots of blood. and no matter what direction i ran away, every headless spurting chicken-- SIX in all-- chased me around the yard. THAT was freaky. my kids looked out from the kitchen window and shrieked in delighted terror. or terrified delight. but it was a heckuva show. (i snipped their heads off with gardening sheers.)
twice i hit and killed dogs while i was driving. both times i pulled the car over and started knocking on doors to notified bereaved owners. that was horrible. really really horrible. one dog was just huge-- a giant pyranese retriever mix. it came out od nowhere.
once or twice a sparrow has flown into my kitchen window. a few just died on impact. but i had to kill one poor thing who hit the window so hard it mostly spurt open but it didn’t die. that was pretty bad, too. i have something hanging out there by the window to deter their flight path but it doesnt always work.
here’s the worst, though. i ***try ***and hit oppossums and raccoons in my car. i hate them because they eat my chickens. i’ve never been successful because i’m not that willing to be a daredevil in my car. but one morning, i went out to feed the chickens and several of them were in pieces around the yard. a raccoon had gotten them. (you can tell the difference between a raccoon attack and a possum attack. the possums eat a tunnel right through the chicken, top to bottom. the raccoons just make a terrible mess of chicken parts and feathers everywhere.)
so that’s the mess i came out to. chicken parts and feathers all around the yard. (the raccoon had pried the old roof off their house.) except for one poor chicken, named Sunday. she was all chewed up but she was still alive. her neck had so many holes it it, it whistled like a flute when she breathed. i didnt know what to do with her. she stayed in my laundry room all day, whistling like a sick flute. that poor bird lasted all day till my husband came home from work. he put her under a bucket with a rag soaked in WD40 and gassed the poor thing.
so, yeah. i kill small animals. “You ain’t so little as mice. I didn’t bounce you hard.”
