Bear Attacks on the Homestead: A Relentless Week of Loss, Resilience, and Recovery

It seems we need a follow-up—or three—on the bear attack… now attacks… on the homestead.

We thought the horrendous discovery Friday morning was the worst it could get: everything in shambles, five of our 17 birds missing. We were very wrong.

Saturday gave us a brief pause. A breath. But then Sunday morning, my husband—who never wakes me—did just that.

Before I opened my eyes I said, “More dead?”

He replied, “I'm afraid so.”


The bear had returned. It killed seven more birds, including our awesome Australorp roo. RIP Larry. It undid all the hard work we had done the day before like it was nothing.

We rounded up the five remaining hens—a three-year-old Australorp, a seven-year-old Barred Rock, and three seven-year-old Sapphire Gems. A little worse for wear, but alive. We tucked them into an unused rabbit tractor and moved them daily across the grass, locking them up at night in the carport with the young chicks inside the “Cape Cod House” (a cute little movable coop I found on Amazon.

That night I decided I’d had enough. I waited on the deck, prepared to stay there all night. The trail cam had shown the bear liked the predawn hours, but he didn’t even wait until midnight. He went right for the empty coop and started thumping.

There was a moon. I had a clear sightline. I took the shot.

I can't say for certain if it was just adrenaline or an echo from the muzzle blast, or if I actually heard that soft “thwap” of contact. But the bear fled. Crashing down the mountainside behind us, swallowed by darkness.

I couldn’t track him in the dark—not with the gully and drop-off back there—and by dawn, the rain had washed away any chance of finding a blood trail. But I’ll say this: based on trajectory, I didn’t recover the round, nor find any signs it passed through empty space. If he survived, he’s carrying a reminder not to get too close to my homestead.

Ripple Effects Across the Homestead


It’s been slow going. The stress of the attacks reached everything.


Our second rabbit doe lost her entire litter—too stressed to carry to term. It took days to calm her. Our first doe kindled early and had a rough start. She developed GI stasis, which almost always ends in death if not caught early. Thankfully, we caught it.

We got Critical Care  and raspberry molasses tea into her, and she made a full recovery. She originally kindled 12 kits, but after missing a day of proper care, we lost five by day four. I’m happy to report the rest are doing well, and all four of our adult rabbits are healthy and thriving again.

Meanwhile, our chickens went from 7–9 eggs a day… to 1 egg every five days. The girls are still
nervous wrecks. I know they’ll bounce back once they’re safely back home and we finish bear-proofing. I’ll do a follow-up soon on what measures we’re taking to try to keep this from happening again.

Will it work? Probably not. But at least I’ll know I tried.

Looking Ahead: Hope in the Incubator

There’s hope on the horizon, though.

We set the last six fertile eggs we had in the 360  and expect a chick hatch in about a week. I’ll share an update when the fluffballs arrive.

Until then: Happy homesteading, my friends.
May your socks stay dry and your toast always land butter side up.


This post contains affiliate links. I will never link to something I haven't purchased and used on my own homestead.

All Artwork is my own.

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