I still have my ongoing saga happening at the mini farm.

A beautiful and equally graceful red fox who I christened as '3 o'clock Charlie' shifted times and came at 5 a.m. this morning.

I have a serious problem with his visits as he recently happened to get inside the property and eat the head off my hand-raised, fully-grown turkey hen.

If I want to eat a turkey that's one thing. But, I don't and I sure don't want my turkeys being Charlie's supper.

Recently, working as a team, my ever faithful Pyrnees, 'Mighty Quinn,' sounded an early morning alarm.

I jumped out of bed, threw on clothes while running down the hall, hit the door, across the yard, got to the gate and told Quinn 'Go!'

In the dark, his white fur with unerring, flawless accuracy blazed after 3 o'clock Charlie. I watched with a certain amount of glee as Mighty Quinn gloriously and powerfully chased the smartest and only predator (exception of human) to ever make it past my fences.

Around and around the pasture they went for almost three whole loops before Charlie was finally able to ungracefully scramble over the fence.

I didn't have my shotgun. I still don't have all the kinks worked out in my defense response. But, at least the animals were safe; this time I was fully clothed and Mighty Quinn put the fear of the Good Lord in Charlie.

I'm assuming he will be back. He has made a point of checking my defenses from different angles and has now moved to different times.

He actually has my admiration. Charlie is highly intelligent. We just need to come to an understanding that my livestock is not his tasty buffet.

This all-nighter was worth it. I've also decided, I have the best dog. Not only is he a great cuddly bear, he is a mighty warrior.

Might Quinn deserves a steak dinner.