Resting worried face

When I resurrected this blog early on in the pandemic, I had every intention of posting regularly.

You can see how well that's gone.

I can't focus. My thoughts are too scattered, worrying about any number of things 

over which I have no control. You know, things like 90,000 dead Americans, and

the 37 million who have lost their jobs, and a grossly incompetent, reprehensible, 

morally bankrupt president, and how much more damage he will do in the next 247 days, 

and oh my god what happens if he's re-elected? I can't even.

 No wonder Alex's default expression is "resting worried face." 

She is my mirror.

Locally, we've been worrying a lot about these holes on the side of the road.

We pass about a dozen of them on our morning walk.

 What if something pops out and bites us?

You know me well enough to know what's coming, right?

So this happened. 

He was pretty far up the road when we spotted him;

nonetheless, we beat a hasty retreat, praised the lord that we had cell service

and googled our fate.

Hmm. "...would not attack under any circumstances usually.."

There is nothing usual about anything these days,

so we'll err on the side of caution and give all of those holes a wide berth.

At least this snake had the decency to make his presence known long before we got to him.

He was pretty hard to miss, stretched out across the road. 

He appeared to be digesting a rather large something or other

and couldn't be bothered by us. One less thing to worry about. 

Alex's new friends

We had a visitor at the ranch yesterday.

I wasn't wearing my glasses when I saw him and assumed I was taking a picture of a bat.

Turns out it was just a very impressive moth.

I texted his picture to Danni, whose response was "Omfg you need to measure it!"

He flew away by the time I got back with my tape measure, darn it.

But the story doesn't end there.

Alex continues to wait for the return of her new friends.

The problem with hanging indoor art outdoors

When I hung a few pieces of art on the back porch,

I figured I might have to straighten them occasionally

or dust them off. No big deal under ordinary circumstances.

This was not going to be an ordinary circumstance.

The nest was occupied so I gave the tenant a week's notice
to find suitable accommodations elsewhere.

Alex said I was being a pushover and began eviction proceedings.

Another wtf? moment at the 7MSN Ranch

In the blink of an eye

 Me: Did you lose something, Smooch?

 Smooch: Ya think?

 Smooch: He was here a second ago.

 Smooch: Where could he be?

 Smooch: He has to be hiding up there.

 Me: You might want to blink when you get a chance.

Smooch: Maybe later. That's how I lost him the first time.

Breakfast of Champions

Last week I mentioned that one of the reasons why I had become attached to Johnny Cash Cat 

was that he feeds the chickens breakfast every morning. 

I wasn't going to illustrate my point, but since some of you asked...

How do I know about Johnny's hunting and the hens' gathering? 

I've been using the sunroom as a sleeping porch lately because it's been so stinkin' hot.

Let's just say I hear things. It's kind of creepy, but I'm getting used to Johnny's nightly ritual.

The routine has become so predictable that I knew if I took the camera to bed, 

I'd be able to capture the carnage without even rolling over.

When I built the room with a view, this isn't what I had in mind.

I've blurred the worst part of this photo – trust me.

Still images don't do justice to the enthusiasm with which the hens start their day, 

knowing that Johnny has been busy all night preparing their breakfast. Herewith is the video version.

(The music is "The Hen's March to the Midden" by The Dubliners.)

Why didn't somebody tell me it was National Varmint Week?

It was Tuesday afternoon around 3 o'clock. I was at my desk diligently working when I heard a series of very loud chirps 

coming from the back yard. I ignored them. Then I heard them again and went out to investigate. 

I didn't see any big bird talking to himself, so I went back to work. 

A few minutes later, the chirping starts again. I get up, look out the window, see nothing, go back to work.

Then I hear the sounds of furniture being arranged on the back porch. 

Then there's a stampede in the corral, with Hank leading the charge. Then the chirping gets real loud. 

I grabbed the camera and ran outside.

Whatever was chirping was under the bench, and Smooch was trying to go in for the kill. 

I stopped taking pictures, got between Smooch and the bench and managed to pick her up

and put her in the garage before there was any bloodshed.

Squirrel: I meant no harm.

Hank: You mean to tell me all that chirping came from one little squirrel?

Wynonna: Doesn't look so little to me. I think he's been dipping into Smooch's dog chow.

If Smooch ate like a normal dog and gobbled up her food when I put down her bowl,

we probably wouldn't have fat squirrels roaming around on the porch. But no. 

Smooch likes to nibble and graze all day long. Those equines are a bad influence.

Lesson learned: make Smooch eat in the house.

Anyway, the poor guy didn't know which way to run. The paparazzi was staring him down at his left, 

and he could hear Smooch whining and carrying on in the garage at his right.

Squirrel: I'll take my chances with the pig.

Smooch smells a rat

It was a dark and stormy night. Not really. But it was dark, and "stormy" adds the right amount of drama to our story. 

Anyway, I was in the house and Smooch was on the back porch. I kept hearing the sounds of furniture being rearranged. 

I tried to ignore them, but my curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed the camera and went outside.

It was a chaotic scene...until I figured out how to use the flash.

Me: Smooch, why is the table askew and the cushions on the ground?

Smooch: Trespasser. Must find.

Smooch: He's back here somewhere, I can smell him.

Me: Maybe it's the Easter Bunny?

Smooch: Nope. The Easter Bunny wouldn't fit back here. I'm guessing a packrat.

Me: Stand back. I'm going to move the bench away from the wall.

Me: Eeewwwww. Definitely not the Easter Bunny.

Hay bale repair ~ a tutorial

You're looking at this picture thinking, "Awww, cute little bunny rabbit, how sweet."

I'm looking at it thinking, "You evil s.o.b."

You heard me.

This bunny and his extended family wreak havoc in my hay barn. 

I don't mind them grabbing a little snack now and then. 

There's a drought and I completely understand their need to eat.

But do they have to chew through the twine that holds the bales together? Grrrrrrr...

Over the weekend, I went out to the hay barn to assess my supply. I planned to restack last season's bales to make room for 

one more load of this season's hay. But before I could do anything, I had to restring all the bales the bunnies broke.

I came prepared with miles of extra twine and used every last bit of it undoing the damage.

I don't know if there's a proper way to restring a bale of hay, but here is how I do it:

If you're lucky, you'll be able to find each end of the broken piece of twine. 

Take a spare piece of twine and tie it to one of the ends of the broken piece with a square knot.

You know, one of those right over left, left over right, anybody-can-tie-it square knots.

Voila.

Now take the other end of your spare piece of twine and tie a loop at the end of it with another square knot.

Then thread the unlooped end through the loop! Easy-peasy.

Now pull the twine through the loop as tight as you can. 

This will involve much cursing, sweating, pushing and pulling, and wishing you had somebody around to help you, etc.

Crisscross the new piece of twine over the string that the rabbits didn't chew through and tie a whole bunch of any kind of knots you want – 

whatever it takes to hold the two strings together in the middle and make a handle that will allow you 

to gently pick up the bale and move it to its final destination.

Here's one more tip that might help you out in a jam, like when you lose your knife in the haystack.
Did you know you can cut open a bale of hay using a piece of twine? True story.

Take a spare piece of twine and run it perpendicular under the twine that's holding the bale together.

Pull each end up and start sawing away. The friction will break the twine around the bale in a couple of seconds.

Once I had all my hay restrung and restacked, the real challenge began – running the gauntlet to the feed room. 

At least the guards were all wearing their fly masks and I didn't have that to worry about.