Which Way is Up?

Do you ever have one of those days where you don't know which way is up?  It looks like Dolly dog is having one of those days.  Here she sits on her pillow with her feet on the bed.

You Get What You Asked For

We have a neighbor who occasionally does work for us.  This week we had him spreading some landscaping rock around our workshop.  As I was leaving, I mentioned that we had some bigger rocks lying around and to just stack them up near the faucet.  This is what I got.  It makes me laugh.



Dolly seems confused by the new addition.



The Longest Day

My husband greeted me at 6:00 a.m. with the news that today was the longest day in the year. He was referring to the summer solstice, but who knew he was prophetic?

A neighbor has contracted out some work in the forest that surrounds our house. We had 150 mph straight line winds last summer that blew down hundreds of trees in his 90 acre forest, and he would like to open up a path for hunting vehicles. He has worked on clearing the path for a year, and has decided to pull out the heavy equipment to finish the job. We granted access along the field adjacent to our property to make it easier to get to. I laughed when I looked out the window the other morning and saw this backhoe parked just outside of my front yard. That doesn't happen in town!

Clearing seemed to go well for several days but it became apparent this morning that things weren't going well. At 7:00 a.m., a contractor showed up and parked his pick up, climbed into the backhoe and drove into the forest. At 7:30, a second pickup arrived and shortly thereafter, the backhoe came out of the woods and parked. I know the signs of when men break something. It starts with a huddle, followed by removing the ball cap and scratching of heads. Someone points, and someone has to climb under the broken object. 8:00 a.m., a third pick up arrives with a generator on a trailer. Yep, it's broken. At 11:00 a.m., the instruction manual comes out. Now we are having fun! I just barely resist taking their photo. Honestly, I wanted to but couldn't figure out how to do it without getting caught.

12:30 the boss arrives. You can always tell when the boss arrives. Arms wave, people shake their heads, someone waves the owner's manual . . . this is not looking good. I'm thinking about Youtube and whether I can get this on video. Men glance this way, I duck.

6:30 p.m. dinner arrives. Who knew you could get take out in the middle of a field? Tailgates appear to make wonderful picnic tables. At 8:00 p.m., they give up. I think someone is ordering parts. While I had an entertaining day checking on their progress, I think it is safe to say that today was truly the longest day of the year for these workers.

Mouse in the House (and other Dr. Seuss rhymes!)

We have a mouse in the house. I don't like it. I don't even like the thought of it. I was preparing dinner the other night and expecting Gene to be home at any moment when I noticed Dolly staring into the bathroom. I thought that was unusual since she has never shown any interest in the bathroom in the past. As I drew closer, I hear a faint sound. Dolly tilted her head and leaned closer. I leaned closer. We are both now looking behind the toilet, when I see a little paw stick it's arm out between the waterline that feeds the toilet and the little chrome ring that covers the hole. "Eeeek!!"

My guard dog is hot on my heels as I head for the opposite end of the house. Some protection she is! As I stand in my bedroom debating my options, I give her the evil eye. Her tail wags. I tiptoe back to the bathroom, Dolly on my heels, and sure enough, scratch, scratch, scratch. I can hear it. Oh man. I really don't want to have to deal with this. Maybe it can wait until Gene gets home. I close the door. (I know . . . but I had to do something!)

I just can't get that scratching sound and the vision of that little paw out of my head. Something must be done. So I bang on the water pipe, go get the bag of mouse poison and stuff it in the hole. Then I stick a toothpick in tight to keep the mouse from pushing the chrome ring off. Now I hear Gene driving in. Sure.

The Mouse in the House! (heavily plagiarized from Dr. Seuss)

The sun did not shine. It was too dark to play. So we sat in the house all that long, long, Tuesday.

I sat there with Dolly, we sat there we two. And I said, “How I wish we had something to do!”

And then something went BUMP! How that bump made us jump! We looked! And we saw him! The mouse in the house!

Gene was out of the house for the day. But I said, “No! No! Make that mouse go away! Tell that mouse in the house we do NOT want to play. He should not be here. He should not be about. He should not be here when Gene is out!”

“Now! Now! Have no fear. Have no fear!” said the mouse. “My tricks are not bad,” Said the mouse in the house.

Die mouse, die. (I like my ending better than the Seuss version)

Dealing with Raccoons

We have a raccoon problem. Mind you, I know that we live in the country and that raccoons were here first, but I draw the line at them camping out on my front porch. The other day, Dolly refused to come in the house and kept playing by the garage. My friend and I walked around the corner and I crawled into the bushes to see what she was chasing and thought she had cornered a cat. As I reached in to rescue the cat, I saw the rings on its tail and stumbled back, dragging Dolly with me. My friend said, "Let me do it. I'm covered for rabies for the next five years!" (She had an unfortunate altercation with a feral cat last summer and had to go through the series of Rabies shots.) We both sat on our heels and laughed.

After the vet gave me strong warnings not to let Dolly come into contact with either the animal or it's droppings because she could develop Baylisascaris or "raccoon disease" (which can be fatal), I decided that something needed to be done. I talked to some friends and neighbors seeking advice on how to deal with the problem, and most agreed that a live trap was the best solution. Let me just say that this is one of those things that is best thought out in advance. I, on the other hand, did not give it enough thought. Before I go on, let me point out that once you start such a project, you should know how you plan to end it.

A friend loaned us a trap and showed me how to bait it. He tied a 12' rope onto the end of it and asked if I knew what the rope is for. Without blinking an eye, I responded, "So you don't have to go into the pond to get the cage after you give the raccoon a swimming lesson?" He laughed and responded, "Studies show they can't actually hold their breath all that long." He tells me the rope is in case I catch a skunk. Then he proceeds to tell me what to do if I do catch a skunk. I have visions of Gene and I in hazmat suits, long rubber gloves, and a clothes pin on our noses as we carry a blanket out to cover the cage. Because skunks won't spray you if it is dark . . . right!

Night 1. I put a hamburger bun in the trap.

Day 2. The trap is open, has been turned 45 degrees in the yard, and the bun is gone. (Did the raccoon use the rope to turn it?) I study the trap trying to figure this out. I get on Google to see what raccoons like to eat.

Night 2. I think the raccoon would enjoy an apple. But this time, I cut it in half so it can't scoop and run. I come inside. 20 minutes later, there is a raccoon in the cage. Apparently, when the cage door was sprung, the raccoon decided to eat the apple and take a nap. He actually looks quite content in there. His tummy is full and he is rather cute. (Note the photo is not our actual raccoon, but you get the idea.) I call my husband up to "deal with it."

It turns out that once you catch the raccoon, you have to make some decisions. It also turns out that I just don't have the heart to give the raccoon a swimming lesson or to have my husband shoot it. So I call my friend and ask what he does with them. He tells me that his wife won't let him kill them either, so he drives over the bridge and lets them go on our side of the river. Thanks a lot!

So after much consideration, we take him back across the bridge and let him go on my neighbor's side of the river. Then I send him the following email:

Dean,

We caught a raccoon last night. He had a tag around his neck that said, "If found, return to Dean."

Problem solved!

Those Aren't My Fish!

Who knew that fish could be so entertaining? On quiet evenings, we make our way down to the ponds with a small scoop of floating catfish food. Getting near the pond and not in the pond requires planning, balance and a bit of luck. So far, I'm running about 50/50.


The first couple of feedings, we could see fish were eating the food, but we couldn't see the fish themselves. And then came Friday. My husband and I climb down the hill, then up on the bank so we can see directly down into the water. We toss a handful of fish food into the water and within seconds, a small (8") silver fish with a black spot behind it's gill and on it's tail swims up and starts gobbling the food. My husband is so excited to finally see our fish. He says, "that's not what I thought carp looked like." I don't have the heart to tell him that isn't one of the fish I bought. We laugh as the fish gobbles up the food, and we toss in another handful.

Suddenly, we see a wave heading toward us. I look at my husband as I plan my escape and say, "Don't get between me and the Kubota!" I think something big is in the pond and it is coming our way. Mud begins churning at our feet, and then several large catfish start fighting over the food and push out little silver guy. Gene comments, "Those are nice sized catfish." And now I have to explain that those aren't the fish I just stocked the pond with. Who knew that we had fish in the pond already? I just spent $75 on fish. Where are they?