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.

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!

The Fish Are In!

It is the subtle statements in the instructions that always seem to create a problem. I remember assembling a stationary bike and getting to a simple instruction to insert bolt B into the crossbar and frame. Sounds simple enough, but in fact, a person would have to have eight arms, hang upside down and be a certified Twister Champion to complete the task. That is sort of how it felt when we went to gather pond water for the coolers to pick up our fish. Seriously, how hard could it be? They really should underline that little statement on the instructions for picking up your fish.

Plan A: We gathered buckets, coolers and rubber boots and headed down to the pond. The water is quite low right now due to a mild winter and dry spring. You would think that that would make it easier to get the water out of the pond. Oh no. It turns out that when you try to walk on the former bed of the pond, it is actually a bog. We immediately sink up to our knees as our boots become encased in mud. Now the fun begins. Who helps who out first?

Plan B: Somebody is going to get wet. I volunteer. This won't be the first pond I have ever swam in. Two steps into the pond, the water is over my boots. Good enough. Nobody said that we had to have water from the middle of the pond. Gene holds one of my arms as I lean in to get "better" water. Gene carries the water to the cooler. Repeat. Somebody should have had a better plan to get OUT of the pond.

Picking up the fish from the fish truck seemed uneventful. After gathering the water, I decided I might need some help in getting the fish back into the pond, so I told my husband, "I need a man." As he deliberated his response (this man has been married to me for nearly 30 years, he knows trouble when he hears it), I explained that there was no way I could walk the coolers down to the pond by myself, and the fish couldn't stay in the warm water all day. It might stress them out. (What about my stress?) So I called a neighbor who agreed to go with me and help me load them into the pond.

The truck is parked in the farm store parking lot and two guys sit and wait for people toting pond water to arrive. With a net, they quickly load your coolers and you are ready to go. They seemed surprised when I whipped out my camera to take their picture.

Getting the fish into the pond went really well. I let Dean do it! He only got stuck twice.

I have been feeding the fish every evening with floating catfish food. It only took two days for them to come when I call them by pounding on the bucket. My fish are smarter than your fish.

Friday Night Lights

One of the great things about living in the country is that you can burn brush and debris and not have to bundle it for the landfill. One of the bad things about living in the country is that you can burn brush even if you aren’t a qualified fire fighter.

We have had a tree trimmer out for the past couple of weeks taking down dead limbs from a summer storm. Our brush piles have grown to the size of two story buildings with no relief in sight. The trimmer asked if he could start burning some of the piles while he was working so that he could supervise them and make sure they didn’t get out of hand. The winds have been quite still and he is making a dent in all of the piles of debris. He seems to have some experience or training in brush burning, because he builds small, 3-foot piles and adds to them as the day goes by. (My approach would be to set the entire thing on fire and stand by with a small garden hose.) At the end of each day, I would go out and fuss with the embers to make sure they were out or sufficiently banked for the night.

On Friday, the breeze had picked up, so we made the decision not to burn. About 8:00 pm, I walked by the kitchen window and saw flames shooting into the air on the far side of the drive. I yelled, “Fire!” and my husband flew out of his recliner and raced to the window. Dolly dog started barking, and I knocked things off the counter in my haste to run to my shoes. With a quick, “Dolly stay!” I grabbed my cell phone as my husband grabed the keys to the truck along with a shovel (I guess we were going to beat it to death).

My heart was racing as I think that we have set an entire field on fire. I quickly called my neighbor as they could be trapped if the fire crossed their driveway, and I asked my husband if I should call 911. He suggested that I wait until we could see what was going on first (God bless him). As we backed out of the garage and looked toward the field, we realized the fire wasn’t where we thought it was.

It turns out that our new neighbor had built a bon fire two stories tall to invite the local high school football team and fans out to celebrate a football rivalry. His driveway is lined with tiki torches and half the town was invited. This gives a whole new meaning to Friday night lights!

Since I have mobilized neighbors who have called neighbors who have called . . . well you get the idea, I now have to start making calls that explain what is going on. I seem to be having a little problem with fire out here.

Jurassic Park

There is a part of our yard where the grass meets the woods that I respectfully refer to as Jurassic Park. I say respectfully, because things cross into there and don’t come out again. We have lost bird feeders, shovels, potted plants and other items to the abyss. I have seen squirrels and chipmunks run into the woods and not be seen again. Even Dolly dog won’t venture past the grass line. So respect is in order.

In the winter, when all the leaves have fallen, it doesn’t appear that scary. But about this time of year, it becomes so dense that you can sense movement, but not identify the source. My neighbor once came barreling out of Jurassic Park riding a 4 wheeler, dressed in camo gear a hat and goggles, and carrying a chain saw. I had vision of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre before I recognized who he was. I’m still not sure why he was in there, but he came out fast. As for the chainsaw . . . I wouldn’t go in there unprotected either!

Sometimes I hear noises in the woods that I can’t identify. Crashing and rustling sounds, and I’m pretty sure an exotic monkey lives in there.  Maybe it is a bird, but it sure sound like a monkey.  It cries out to me and taunts me as I cautiously walk by. 

Hello Neighbor!

I was sitting in my office a few weeks ago when I turned around and noticed the back end of a large animal walking by my window. I jumped up and went to the front door to see what it was, only to discover a very large, curly haired dog in the front yard. When I opened the front door, the dog looked at me for a minute, then came right to me and leaned on my hip. he then pushed me aside to go see what Dolly was barking about. This was a big dog -- I’m thinking an Airedale mix that had to weigh close to 100 pounds. I admit that I was a bit hesitant to wrestle it and try to read its tags, but he seemed friendly enough, so I leaned in and grabbed the collar only to get dog slobber all over me. Was this thing rabid or did it always drool this much? The tag didn’t list an address, only a rabies vaccination record number, and I wasn’t brave enough to venture near the slobber zone twice.

I decided to come in and call some neighbors to see if anyone was missing a pet. Unfortunately, getting in the house without my new friend proved to be more difficult than one would think. He decided that if Dolly dog could be inside, he wanted to come in as well. I pushed, I shoved, but this dog held its ground at the front door having a stare off with Dolly. After a few minutes of wresting a very large, determined dog and using one leg to keep him out and one arm to keep Dolly in, I was able to get in and shut the door. I no sooner I closed the front door, when I heard a knock, knock, knock on the door. Wow, I thought, someone is already here to claim the dog.

I opened the front door to see the Airedale looking at me. No one else was in site. Are you kidding me? This dog knows how to knock on doors! Call the circus! I laughed and closed the door and took three steps when I heard knock, knock, knock again. The dog is still looking at me. Dolly is barking like crazy, and I’m wondering who is in charge.

This time, I open the door and say, “No, Dolly can’t come out and play,” and close the door. After three more tries, the dog gets tired of the game and wanders away. Now every now and then, I hear a knocking at the door and look out to see this persistent dog looking at me. My biggest concern is what I will do if the owners teach this dog how to punch in the code to the garage door opener!

Old vs. New

Gene and I were at the bank drive through when I caught this delightful photo of a man with a pair of horses pulling an old fashioned wagon.  I was just getting ready to tap Gene on the arm to point out this quaint sight when the man stopped the buggy, pulled out his cell phone and started texting.  I couldn’t help laughing.   Do you think the law on texting and driving applies to buggies?

How Do Fish Get Into Ponds?

A stranger stopped by today and asked if he could fish in our ponds. Sure, no problem. I thought it was nice that he asked. Later in the day, I walked down to the ponds to see if I could spot any fish. I'm curious as to what type we might have. I doubt that the shallow pond has any fish, but we enjoy watching the ducks swim among the cattails. The big pond has carp in it according to the previous owner, but I'm wondering how fish get into the pond in the first place?

Do people actually buy fish and stock small ponds? I know this is possible, but where does one buy live fish? If they are tiny, will they survive? Does the pond have to be deep enough so that when it freezes in the winter, there is enough water to stay alive -- that rules out the small pond. What kind of fish should I buy?

And finally, the otter in the pond scared the beegeebies out of me this morning. I saw a small head swimming across the lake with a long trail behind it and thought it was a snake. A really BIG snake! Then it did a flip and I realized it was an otter. I don't like snakes. Haven't formed an opinion on otters yet. Wonder if that little guy will become a problem.

Probably eats fish.

Ahh, Spring!

We survived the winter! Seriously, there were moments when I questioned our sanity in purchasing 14 acres. Now that the snow has melted and I can sit outside and look at the beautiful view, I remember why we loved this place.

We are discovering new forms of wildlife. The geese have returned and I think I have spotted a nest. They could have planned better on placing their nest as it sits on top of the dam, right in the tire tracks where we can cross the dam. We also have frogs in the ponds. Who knew frogs could be so loud! I get a kick out of shouting "Quiet!" as I walk by the pond. The frogs stop croaking for about half a minute, then start up again. I find amusement wherever I can. I've given up wondering what the neighbors think.

Shots Fired!

We took Dolly for her early morning walk down the driveway. It is so nice to be able to walk her without a leash. She gets in twice the miles that we do. Who knew the drive was so steep. It is fun going down, but coming up the hill is a challenge.

Just as we rounded the curve, I heard shots fired. I hit the deck . . . literally. I'm squatted down, my eyes are huge with fear . . and I look up and see Gene laughing. He says between gasping breaths, "It's just hunters." Who cares! They are firing guns for God's sake. I've seen the stealthy movements of soldiers and action heroes on T.V. The ones who duck when shots are fired live longer than those who stand and look around. And for those who laugh . . . I'm not talking to you.