Bandits and Chickens...

      Oh, gotta love the country life!  We had been being plagued lately by a family of raccoons that come under the cover of darkness and raid our pop fridge on the back porch (yes, I have a refrigerator on my porch....). 
     Now the first night, they hit the jackpot and feasted on pretzels left over from the concession stand that I was doling out to the dog as treats....the next night, they helped themselves to a tupperware container of beef stew, (damn them, I was looking forward to that stew) and the third night managed to damage several cans of my precious Pepsi (I only allow myself one can a day and they destroyed FOUR cans!  The nerve!!  That was it!!  Realizing that these bandits were not going to stop raiding the fridge for a free meal, I moved my live trap (yes the same one that has not been tripped yet in my search of the chicken killing weasel) to the back yard and baited it with marshmallows.  Bingo!  The next morning I had myself a teenaged raccoon.  I drove him down the road a couple of miles and released him.  The next morning Bam!  I had another one!!  I was on a roll & and began wondering "how many babies do coons have anyway?"  In other words the novelty had worn off and I really didn't want to spend the rest of the summer driving coons off to better pastures! 
     The third night I was out of marshmallows and used vanilla wafer cookies instead and the next morning I was rewarded with yet another teenaged raccoon.  This one however was feisty and shredded the blanket that I threw over the cage in an attempt to calm the little beasty down....needless to say he didn’t quite make it the full two miles to his release destination as he was having a cow in the back of the car....(that is such a funny expression seeing as cow babies are MUCH bigger than racoons are, lol) so he only traveled about 1 mile away.  Hoping that was far enough I opened the trap and Zoom!  off he went (hopefully never to be seen again!).   
     The last night I set the trap, again using vanilla wafer cookies and crossed my fingers, hoping that momma herself would be in the trap and my family of night-time bandits would be gone and therefore my Pepsi stash safe.  The next morning, nothing in the cage.....the second morning, nothing in the cage.....the third morning it was pouring down rain. Now, please understand, this was not a nice warm summer rain but a freezing, drenching downpour the likes that Noah no doubt encountered while traveling around on his ark!  I look out hoping that the trap is again empty but I was wrong!  I had caught a varmint afterall, one that apparently loves vanilla wafers and is curious enough to get itself in trouble.  It also was sitting in a low spot of the yard and the water was slowly getting deeper and the soaking creature was standing as tall as it could to keep its body out of the rising tide.  But instead of rejoicing in my capture I was mortified to see that I had caught my very own lead hen!!   
     Now for those of you who don’t know much about chickens, there is a reason for the saying "mad as a wet hen" they DO NOT like water at all and she was pissed off!  She was squacking and carrying on (jeesh... like I was trying to catch a chicken)!  Chickens also have a physical weakness when it comes to water – they absolutely cannot get water in their ears – it means almost certain death (think of swimmers ear on steroids!).  So, after much arguing, and then some cajoling and yes, even a little begging, I get her out of the cage and wrap her up in a bath towel, like a chicken taco and then dried her head as good as possible (she didn’t think much of that procedure either).  I then used my umbrella to keep her dry and took her to the barn and placed her in the coop with the heat lamp on to warm up and dry out.  She immediately collapsed and flattened herself out with wings widespread to soak up the heat (she is a bit of a drama queen...) You know not even a cluck of a thanks for "saving my life" from her – silly ungrateful bird!  Needless to say,  I did not reset the trap....I had enough adventure for a few days!

The Scooter Store (July, 2010)

I arrived home tonight, and much like any other night grabbed the mail, patted the dog and kicked off my shoes as soon as entering the house.

And like many of you I quickly rifled through the stack of mail...mumbling under my breath a litany of what was received "bill, bill, junk, college solicitation for Dylan, credit card solicitation for Nick, bill, bill, Scooter Store special offer – SAY WHAT???" 

When I looked to see who it was addressed to (surely it was for my Grandmother) I saw the following fateful words:  Mrs. Corrina Waggy.   Again, I say, "SAY WHAT????  What is this crap about?"  I mean I know that my joints are less limber than they used to be, and I have sometimes awakened to find that one or both ankles somehow became inexplicably frozen overnight!   So frozen in fact, that I would have to manually manipulate my feet back and forth (yes, with my hands) in order to loosen the joints up enough to stand... and yes, I admit that every morning the first few steps I take out of bed are stumbling and stiff legged, resembling the walk of a drunken pirate with two wooden peg legs...(Allow that one to sink in a bit...) BUT STILL!!!   WHAT ARE THEY THINKING?  

I do NOT need a scooter!  I am a somewhat able bodied mid forty something woman after all!  JEEZ!!  So as I continued to rant and rave in my head regarding the audacity of a company sending a Scooter Store flyer to me – ME after all!  A SCOOTER?  I strolled to the kitchen and expertly washed down my three horse pill sized Glucosamine Chondroitin tablets to soothe my aching knees and ankles, oh and why not, let's throw in a couple of extra strength Excedrin while I'm at it.  What could they be suggesting by sending me this flyer? 

Why! I should destroy the letter right now! But how??

            I could stomp on it but that might hurt my knees...

            I could throw it to the ground and pile drive it but I fear my elbow would keep me up tonight and then there is the secondary problem of picking it up off the floor afterwards – the lower back and hips really don't appreciate having to bend down that much anymore...(sigh)

So, how to destroy it? 

            Fire, perhaps?...no too much work and too much odor. 

            Tear it into small pieces? Nah, my fingers are sore from grading copious amounts of quizzes today....

            How about if I put it in the cat litter box and let the kittens take care of it, I think to myself?  No, I would just end up having to clean up the mess. 

Finally, I decided to be mature about this and give them the cold shoulder treatment.  After all, I have decades of practice in this area (poor Steve).  So I carried the offending piece of mail between my pointer finger and thumb with my other fingers properly splayed out to display my complete and utter disgust and scrunched up my face as though I just smelled something horribly rotten.  I marched with purpose to the trashcan, stomped on the little pedal and unceremoniously dropped it unopened into the garbage.  "That'll show 'em", I thought as I dusted off my hands, symbolically removing any trace of the suggestion that I need a Scooter chair, grabbed a cookie and walked into the living room.

***Disclamer:  The above is most definitely an over-exaggeration of my aches and pains.  Really I only have aching ankles and knees and occasionally a sore hip and of course when the Kerr defect acts up a stiff neck and shoulders.  And I really did have sore fingers today from grading huge numbers of papers, very quickly, and with an uncomfortable pen....but I assure you, I DO NOT NEED A SCOOTER CHAIR!!

Warm and Fuzzies

Tess

Grace

Midge

         Just a little over a year ago we helped out a friend.  Her cat had a large litter of kittens and two were left without homes.  She asked us to take the two leftovers and agreed quickly (too quickly) to the idea that they would have to become barn cats.  As anyone with a house and barn surrounded by fields knows, you need a few good barn cats!  So we agreed mostly because we needed barn cats and because she told us that they were too big to stay and were about 6 months old.  Well the day came when she dropped off our new barn cats and to my astonishment they were babies!  Barely 6 weeks old, there was no way they could go to the barn without a mother cat to teach them how to hunt and survive, not to mention, we were entering winter, so into the house they came.  "Only until spring" I announced over and over, "Don't get attached, they will be going to the barn to live in about 5 months"  This I reminded myself as much as I reminded my husband and sons.  But these little balls of fuzz were masters of looking cute, being lovable and they wormed their ways into our hearts.  When spring finally appeared, the words, "It's not quite warm enough" were uttered and by June it was pretty obvious that these little girls weren’t going anywhere! 

            We named the larger 'Grace' because she sorely lacked any.... missed jumps, falling off armchairs, tripping over invisible items, she was anything but graceful.  But she has grown into a personable little dilute tortoiseshell cat with a beautiful face.  She has a penchant for bothering you at the dinner table.  It is the only time I hear her meow and she does so with a plaintive sound that makes you feel as if she is trying to get you to follow her to the site of some sort of tragedy, much like the beloved Lassie of the dog world.

            The smaller kitten is 'Tess'.  She is slight in stature but not in personality.  She will follow you at a dead run to beat you to the kitchen for some imagined treat that never materializes.  I have seen her go from sound asleep to running through the house in a blink of an eye.  And if you sit still for longer than a few minutes you will have a lap-warmer before you know it....a wonderful comfort for long winter evenings.  She is also our bathroom cat.  For some unexplainable reason she feels the need to watch over you while you brush your teeth, take a shower (peeking around the edge of the shower curtain) and put on your makeup.  She has a tiny, quiet voice and always sounds like she is asking a question.

            We have other cats too, 'Cleo' is a traditional tortoiseshell calico and the matriarch of the group is 'Midge' a cranky old lady of a cat.  All of our cats were rescues of sorts.  'Midge' was brought home from a construction site by my husband.  She was tiny, freezing and starving.  "She could not compete with the larger cats for the small amount of food." He explained.  'Cleo' was found at a funeral dinner, drenched by the pouring rain she was sitting in while watching the people come and go.  My oldest son brought her home "Please?" he pleaded.  She stayed. 'Cleo' lives most of the year with my son while at college.  It is interesting how when she comes home, the others sniff and stare for a bit but usually within a short time they are grooming each other and racing each other to the food bowl.  It is a rag-tag family, not without its squabbles but one that works for both felines and humans alike.  Afterall, there is nothing like a cup of hot chocolate, a good book, a warm kitten in your lap and a crackling fire to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. (1/17/11)

   

An Introduction

Hello and welcome to my inaugural blog!  I have been thinking about doing this for a long time and my friends keep encouraging it so......here I am.  I live on a small Hobby Farm in rural northwest Ohio that has seen its ups and downs through the years.  We have raised almost every type of farm animal with varying success.  This blog is meant to share these experiences with you the reader.  Some will be funny, others sad and of course everything in between!  Since I write about what happens on any given day, I will probably start with some past events that I have shared with my friends and then add to them as life unfolds.  I hope you enjoy my trials and tribulations of life in the country!