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There are thousands of lineal footage, pulsing 8K volts. They adapted and breech thru.Try a little hotwire.
Snares are legal here. Sold at most of our feed stores. Ours are installed just outside our prop line fence in the 100 acre wood. It connects to the 2 million acres they are currently Earth Moving for future Floridians. That's where the real dangerous predators are digging (at our fence). Half a dozen coyote in 3 months. We raise swine and goats, and work the farm with side arms at night. Coyotes will eat the legs off a pig or goat while they are still alive. A pack will tug a war it's limbs off while they are alive.Instead of snares. .....look into "cable restraints". Does the same thing......and less to no danger to non-targets.
Many states have an outright ban on locking snares, but do allow cable restraints.
I could definitely relate.. A man's life use to revolve around his plot of earth. My fondest memories of my grand dad's farm was during spring right after the first plowing, you could you could tell by just looking at the soil it was promising. I also miss the times Running through the thick green pasture right before it was going to be grazed into the late summer. Marveling at how they built that old pole barn while feeding the cows. The amount of work done and memories that were made out into those fields clearing, planting, harvesting its something you'd never wana forget. That farm is long gone, now made up of homes and brush.. It's hard to explain but when you drive down our historic road and look upon all the farms that run along the street each one once supported a hard working family That broke their backs running those farms. Now most of them are vacant and developed, its hard not to gaze at it and just wonder WHY...,what happened? ....I am so sorry all that is happening. I know what I’m fixing to say won’t mean anything to many, but here goes anyway. For those of us old enough to have made memories and acquire a certain level of nostalgia nothing could be worse than to see an old homeplace dismantled or even just disfigured, for that matter. It breaks my heart every time I drive by my granddaddy’s old farm. Literally I cry. It has remained as a little plot of land that used to be a small working farm, teeming with animal life, buzzing with equipment, and beautifully adorned with gardens full of wonderful food, but has just been let fall into disrepair something terrible.
All my memories of the goings on half a century ago are still in my mind and I visit them often.
The push for progress isn’t necessarily the best for everything or everyone. We have got to leave some of this green farmland as is. Concrete isn’t always best for prosperity’s sake.
I could go on and on.