Do you know how obnoxious you have to be not to make it at
Linda’s Last Chance Ranch? Pretty damn ornery as one cocky rooster
found out last week after attacking every peace-loving critter on
the ranch. Jim had enough.
”
Get the shotgun!
”
Do you know how obnoxious you have to be not to make it at Linda’s Last Chance Ranch? Pretty damn ornery as one cocky rooster found out last week after attacking every peace-loving critter on the ranch. Jim had enough. “Get the shotgun!”
The rule is simple here – everybody and every animal has to get along with each other. If not, you’re history.
“I hope that serves as a visual aid to the rest of the animals,” says my sharpshooter.
First, we started out with coyotes – got rid of them then the bobcats showed up. We finally licked that problem then the fox picked up the hunt. Got rid of the fox then the raccoons and skunks took over, but, like everything else, we have come full circle – the coyotes are back.
Adapting to an unknown environment is essential to survival. I’ve noticed my natural instincts have become stronger since moving to the country. What was once unfamiliar sounds is the language of nature. This morning the chickens gave warning – a predator was on the hunt.
Recognizing these warning sounds, I rushed out the door in time to catch, out of the corner of my eye, a chicken in flight, up and over the house she flew, (Yes, chickens can fly – especially the ones from San Juan Bautista) leaving the hungry coyote far behind while I closed in, but he caught sight of me and made like a ghost, disappearing over the hill.
Country living brings nature right to your door, or it can be found left in the middle of the living room floor or in the hall.
E-yew! Squish between my toes another headless body. Ah Jeez – can’t these cats keep their kill outside. At first, it was birds, rats and mice – then the moles started showing up. By the way, what do you feed a baby mole?
Sam I Am, the cat, is like having a teenager, with a 2-year-old brain – anything alive smaller than him is a play toy if not a snack, but, for some reason, Sam just decided to bring in a baby mole the size of my thumb and drop him off unharmed.
What brought this mole to my attention was the shrilling sound of chirping coming from the living room. I heard these sounds before, but I always thought it was some insect. There it stood on its tiny back legs, crying out for its mommy. I must admit it was cute despite its future intentions of eating my lawn.
What the Sam blazes am I going to do with a baby mole? I offered the little tyke a blade of grass, which it refused. Dunking my finger in a glass of water I offered it a drink. Drop by drop it drank from my finger. Then the shrilling began, but, this time, it was coming from outside.
In the palm of my hand, I carried the mole with me, looking and listening for any clue that would lead me to its family. The baby mole began to call out in its tiny voice, and a louder shrill could be heard coming from underneath the oak tree. It took nearly an hour to find the nest. I released the mole, he was free at last. As he scurried below, the cats were hot on his trail. Quickly, I picked up a boulder covering most of the entry way to prevent the cats from pawing at the nest.
Since the mole incident our cats have moved on to bigger things – squirrels. What worries me is what next will the cat drag in?
On another note, this July 4, as we enjoy our freedom to barbecue and turn on our air conditioners, let’s first remember our troops in Iraq where the thermostat is and I quote my son, “stuck on hell.”
Linda Lee KIng is a staff writer. Her column appears every Wednesday. E-mail her at
lk***@fr***********.com
