but that little bugger is back!
Okay, I can now get the dumb ass of the year
award. I get up at 4 a.m. and am impatient to get started on my day as the heat
is supposed to climb later. Before light hits the sky, I am out in the prison
yard, tending to the Bad boy of the barnyard and the little chicken mafia. My
faithful dog by my side as I work with flashlight in hand. I scatter chicken
grain for the little carnivores, shovel chicken shit from the floor and make
several trips to the compost pile. I smell like I just took a bath in the duck
pool. Hurricane Jose on my mind as I think with agony of the wood that I still
have to stack and wanting it done before the storm comes in. I am done with the
poop patrol by 5:30 and it’s still dark, murky with fog and ohhhh so quiet on
the home front. I love the early mornings. It's when I can work and let my mind
venture to faraway places. Hauling out the wheel barrow I notice my Tara Belle
acting strangely. Not giving it thought I head to the wood pile and begin loading
the wood once again. It seems this woodpile is mocking me.
I've loaded and unloaded this freaking thing four
times now, another story for another day. Calling Tara Belle, thinking she's
just spooked by something she smells in the woods, I make my way to the
woodshed. Floor is still holding so hubby won't die by my hands today. Tara
belle refuses to follow me. I should have listened to the dang dog. With an arm
load of wood, I make my way into the shed, and see the skunk, and that little
skunk sees me, and our eyes meet. hers curious, mine horrified.... I scream
like a school girl...’Oh dear God why?’ as I back pedalling to get the hell out
of the way. She squeaks...lifts her tail...Pepe Le Pew...sends out a spray of
the most noxious, horrible, gagging substance....and dropping the wood I run
like my ass is on fire and the devil himself is hot on my heels...Tara Belle is
already on the porch, and this little fu***** Pepe Le Pu is chasing me....
Since when do skunks chase people????? Aren't they supposed to run away? Thus
today, my shed and wood pile have the most noxious odour known to man and I am
at a standstill with loading the wood…Hurricane Jose can have it…and perhaps in
all his hurricane fury he will carry that God-awful skunk from my place.
Part 2
And: That little bastard is back! In December! Too
cold I thought for skunks, but noooooooo! It is 1 a.m. and hubby mumbles,
waking me up. Him: What is that smell? Me: Grumbling. What? Him: That smell? Me:
Oh fudge! Skunk! As I am burying my head beneath the covers gagging. Him: Man!
That stinks, it smells like he's right here in the bed with us. Me: Go out and
shoot him! Him: You go out and shoot him! I ain't going out there! Me: Please
Dear God go out and make him stop! Him: You're just nuts, you know that? Me: It
stinks!
Him: Go back to sleep! Me: Well you’re the one who
woke ME up asshat! So thus, another early day starts up here on the hill....
paradise.
Part 3
And, The
trees are covered with ice and it is a let down from the beautiful warm temps
we had over the weekend. Laundry has been started and the big hand
on the
clock above the fridge is just reaching five a.m. My day has started. My mouse
is alive and well out in the wood shed, she/he peeped its furry little
head out
at me yesterday. I listen as Peckerhead crows out his morning call… I am mad at
that fluffy little flicker, as I limp around the house doing my
chores
like some old lady with arthritis in her joints… No I don’t have arthritis..I
am sporting a bruise about the size of a saucer on my knee which also
has
swelling the size of an orange. And it is from chasing an escaped Peckerhead
convict around the icy yard yesterday, slipping and falling several times,
as the
Little Chicken Mafia cheered him on. They wanted him to embrace his freedom…I
wanted him back into the coop. The Little Nasties quacked behind their
fence…wanting
and hoping for another go at this handsome dude. They were preparing for a
rumble, I was preparing ideas for a good stew. Needless to say,
I won the
race and he went back into lockdown. He was not a happy prisoner…, crowing out
his displeasure as I closed the jail house door. So today I will
go into
the coop armed with a broom. Why? Because Peckerhead has been known to hold a
grudge…and I want to be prepared in case he decides to strike. I
know him
and the girls, the rowdy, conniving little bunch they are, have been plotting
and planning my demise. It is not a matter of if but rather When!
And I
will be prepared. No more prison breaks on my watch. No more sneak attacks if I
can help it. Awareness is the word of the day…be aware of my surroundings…if
anything
looks suspicious…take notice and take action…I feel like I’m preparing for my
own little Chicken/Rooster Terrorist attack. It is an uneasy feeling.
Now, I
have had people who read my stories ask me why I would keep such a beast around
and I always tell them it’s a complicated subject. But the basic
bottom
line is that I’ve come to respect this little dude. He is a great protector for
the Little Chicken Mafia dudettes…he’d lay his life down in a Mississippi
minute
should a fox, coyote, hawk or other predator come after them. He even protects
them from me. He’s got spunk and attitude, something I find challenging
and
endearing. He’s got a big and bold personality!!! And as wiley as he can be, he
just has a way of looking at me that makes me smile. Yes, we have a
very
dysfunctional relationship, he and I. So today I am armed with a broom…and an
attitude of my own. And, I am sure he’s already got his moves all planned
out…and
we will do this dance one more time.
Written
and © by Nancy Broadley
And there
are more to come. She’s brilliant and I absolutely love her stories. She is the
only person who can actually make me laugh out loud through her writing.
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