Well, I’m happy to say that the plan I launched last fall to buy two riding lawn mowers is working out to perfection. Now that spring has sprung (at least I hope it lasts) and we’ve had just enuf rain to get the grass growing overtime, ol’ Nevah has cut her half of the grass twice with the new lawn mower, while I’ve cut my half with the old lawn mower just once.
I always say, to keep your wife happy, all you need to do is let her have more than half of everything.
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I mentioned the rain and I’m happy to report a total of two inches. Why, we even got enuf runoff from the inch-and-a-halfer that our pond raised at least 4 inches and only needs about four feet more to be full. So, while we could use more rain, I’m thankful for what we got and that, so far, the really nasty spring weather has avoided us.
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When our Iowa friends, the Pegan Rayes, visited us on their return to the Hawkeye State from overwintering in the land of the desert sun, a couple days of fishin’ were in order. We caught a couple nice stringers of fish and we split our contest — he caught the biggest and I caught the most.
However, if I’d just caught that monster bass that broke my fishing line, I’d have won both sides of the contest. I think we tied on the contest to see who could eat and drink the most.
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My ineptitude in handling cattle that I described in last week’s column has had serious repercussions. Now my manhood and pride has been called out.
You’ll recall that while helping my ol’ buddy, Lon G. Horner, move a herd of cattle and calves from one pasture to the other, my assigned job wuz to stand in the road and keep the calves from missing the gate — and that I failed miserably by yakking on my cell phone whilst two calves strolled right by me.
After we chased the wayward calves back into the pasture (through the fence, I might add), the casual comment wuz made that an empty bucket in the road couldn’t have done a poorer job than yours truly. And, I manned up and took the criticism because I didn’t have any alternative — such as lying or passing the blame.
But, now, when ol’ Lon and his smarty-pants sidekick, Ben denPitchett, came to this week’s Old Boar’s Breakfast, they exposed me to public ridicule. They carried into that circle of my closest friends a giant four-feet tall yellow monkey doll that Lon had purchased at a garage sale.
Of course, Lon retold the story of my cattle handling calamity, and then announced that next time he needed someone to stand in the road to scare the cattle back, he’d just use “Milo Monkey.”
I’m thinking of hiring my attorney, ol’ Bustis Pocketts, to sue ol’ Lon for defaming me in public. If I decide on legal action, I’ll sue for at least 50-cents in actual damages and a buck for restitution. That’ll teach him a lesson.
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Happy to report that my chicken/wildlife food plots have sprouted and are looking good so far. And we’re enjoying the early spring radishes and lettuce from our garden.
Nevah and I planted some more garden in the wake of the rain. Got some peas, onions, and sweet corn in the ground now waiting the rain that the weatherman is forecasting for tomorrow.
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I got the job done of moving the 10 chicks the hens hatched a month or so ago from the brooder house to the main chicken house. It always takes the little ones a few days to adjust to living amongst the big ‘uns, but the boldest of the bunch have already navigated themselves to the top of the roost. And one chick staked out a claim sitting on top of the squirrel-cage fan I have hanging from the ceiling.
It’s interesting how much chickens are like people. Some just gravitate naturally to top status; some stay contentedly at the bottom of the social stratum; the bulk land happily somewhere in the middle; and there’s the renegade that says “to heck with the mainstream and cuts a path of it’s own.”
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When I turned my compost pile with the tractor yesterday, the chickens flocked to the scene and gorged themselves on the host of fat white horse-fly grub worms that I uncovered. They love ‘em and I enjoy watching the pests devoured.
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Going to venture to Kansas City this weekend to stay with ol’ Canby and May Bea Handy. Our main purpose is to party while attending the spring football game of our favorite university, Bea Wilder U.
My second purpose is to spend an hour or so at the nearby giant sporting goods store to buy a bunch of stuff I don’t need, but think I do. I need new hearing protectors, a new BB gun to thump the persistent chickens that fly over the fences into my garden, and, of course, some new fishing stuff.
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Gotta go for now. Remember these wise words: “He who laughs last, thinks slowest.” Have a good ‘un.
