It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Lots going on in our little ranch village. [WARNING PHOTO OF DEAD ANIMAL TO FOLLOW]
First, when I came home yesterday afternoon after writing my magnum opus about my mother, there were vultures sitting on our “barn” container. I asked Lee’s brother, but he hadn’t gone over to check on it, so I did. Well, one potential bird killer has been eliminated from the area.
That skunk isn’t gonna do any more eating of anything. Prime suspect is a coyote, which would explain Alfred’s alarm bark the previous night (not his usual protection bark). Smelled GREAT, too, right by my new desk.
I spent more time taking chicken photos (I’ll just share ONE), then headed out to feed the horses. There, I performed a series of bone-headed acts that made me feel like the village idiot.
First, we went to get some more hay for Apache, and that went find, saw lots of spiders, etc., but when I went to leave with the hay in the back of Hilda the utility vehicle, I neglected to remember the large iron post behind me. So I reversed rather smartly smack into it. Ow.
There was no damage to Hilda, but my head and back aren’t happy. Sara said she was going to pretend she hadn’t heard the loud bang, which made me laugh.
Then, I went to get Apache and Fiona, who were in the little pasture eating grass while Vrazels were moving a couple of calves. I brought them out and got distracted by the sunset.
Thus, I let Spice and Lakota come dashing out in great excitement. Bone-headed move number two! The horses ran straight into Sara and the Vrazels, who along with me, blocked all exits. Sara haltered them up and all was well. But really, leaving the gate open? I blame the headache.
We all settled down to do our horse work. I painted Apache’s feet, and Sara was working on Spices’ fungal area. I went to take Apache on a walk, and he was just fine until he heard a noise and froze. I said, yeah, that’s some visiting dog, let’s go back. And we did.
I realized the “dog noise” had not stopped. And it wasn’t a dog. I looked around and noticed a distinct lack of red chicken with us. That noise was Big Red squawking her head off! I ran (yes, I did run) over to her old henhouse, where the sound was coming from, scared to death something was attacking her.
I found her backed into the corner of the chicken run, facing a rather hefty chicken snake that she’d apparently gotten quite upset. I just went into action and found a limb that had conveniently fallen off the pecan tree and poked at the snake until it slithered away. How brave!
I said, “It’s safe now, let’s go, Red,” and she followed me out the gate and then high-tailed it (more like waddled) as fast as she could over to where Sara and the horses were. She was all ruffled and ker-fluffled, but okay.
After a nice drink of water, she ate some food and settled down. So, maybe I was the hero after all?