Chickens, cats, and crawling things....

The chickens.... Scarlett and Prissy continue to sit in their nesting boxes, trying their best to hatch imaginary eggs. I keep going into the coop and lifting them out of there, and they have gotten quite used to the extra attention. I had been wearing elbow-length oven mitts when I picked up those hens, but now I just put my glove-less hands in there and pick them up.

The two hens aren't even pecking and fighting and trying their best to stay in the nesting boxes now. The three of us seem to have a schedule. I lift them out of their boxes..... they go hunting around the yard for worms and bugs and bits of grass.... they run back to the coop and fly up into the nesting boxes..... I go back to the coop and lift them out..... they go hunting.... It's a sort of coop square-dance, all day long. Grab your chickens and doe-si-doe....

The cats...... Mickey continues to go outside in the morning, and the Marco Polo side of him still comes out now and then. Like this morning, when my husband walked halfway down the hill because Mickey was on his way towards the pond. There is also a wide drainage pipe down there, which goes underneath the road and comes out in the neighbor's pasture on the other side of the hill. Mickey has already gone through that, and found himself in the midst of the neighbor's horses and goats. Neither the horses nor the goats seemed to mind, but Mickey was bewildered and confused, and when I called out to him that time, he sped through the pipe and didn't stop running till he was back on his own porch again.

Sweet Pea goes outside along with Mickey, and those two are still chasing butterflies and dragonflies around the yard. It's a wonder we have any of those insects left. And the grasshoppers--- every once in a while, I find a bright green grasshopper that is missing a leg.... it tries to crawl on the porch to stay out of the way of the cats, but more often than not, one of the nesting barn swallows swoop down and capture those crippled grasshoppers. (Can you use the word crippled with insects? Or are they, too, physically challenged?)

Gatsby sits on the porch all day long and watches Mickey and Sweet Pea running around in the heat. The last time I saw Gatsby moving fast was that day a couple of weeks ago when the snake was by the porch steps. I guess Gatsby saves his energy for the big things, and just can't be bothered with butterflies and dragonflies. The other morning, Gatsby was limping a little bit, and he had a tiny cut on one side of his face. I've been bringing him in at night now... heaven only knows what's out there after dark, and maybe being outside at night isn't the best place for that big old gray cat. The Gray Gatsby. The name still fits him.

In the last week or so, I haven't seen any more tarantulas (and yes, I have been looking, if only so my husband can see how huge they are). There are been (thankfully) no more snakes, not even after the hay was cut and baled in the pastures. I'm hoping the snakes simply slithered towards the pond when the tractors and balers were out there.

On one of my braver days (translation: a day that my mind wasn't functioning properly), I "walked the property" with my husband. We started out behind the barn and went all around the perimeter of that pasture there, then walked around the perimeter of the pasture behind the cottage and the garage, then ended up in the pasture in front of the house and around the pond. As we walked, I was wearing red leather western boots (at least I remembered not to wear low shoes, even though this was after the hay had been cut and baled).

When we got around the pond (I was carrying my spider-web stick, by the way), the grass was still high on the one side near the fence because the mowers couldn't get on the sloped side of that land. In order to get back to the house, we either had to walk through the thigh-high grass there (not a smart thing to do) or we had to "hop the fence" (as my husband called it).

You want me to hop the fence? "What's wrong with that? Haven't you ever hopped a fence before?" I told my husband that in all my 58 years on this planet, he can bet the ranch that I haven't ever hopped a fence before. My husband said I didn't know what I was missing. He asked me if I wanted to just walk back around the pond and back across the front pasture, and back up towards the house. I looked....... it was nearly 100 degrees that day..... that was a long way back, and the fence was right there in front of us. I was wearing western boots.... perfect shoes to hop a fence, if you ask me.

I watched my husband get himself over the fence. Piece of cake, or so it seemed. But when I tried it, my mind couldn't wrap itself around the fact that I had to lift myself up onto the second bar of that fence and swing myself over. Western boots and spider-stick notwithstanding, I guess I'm still a city girl at heart. I did make it over the fence, though.... my husband held onto me as I climbed to the second rail of the fence, he held me as I slowly swung myself over to the other side, but then he picked me up from that fence and got me down to the ground. So, actually, I never really did hop the fence. (My city girl status is still intact.)

What we truly need is a little golf cart thing...... some of the neighbors have them: two seats, with a little storage spot on the back so you can carry things around the property if you need to. And the little cart gets you all around your property without having to walk in 100-degree heat and without the necessity of hopping fences to get back to where you started. I wonder what colors they come in? I've only seen army-green ones around here. Would they be available in hot pink? Spotted leopard?