last Friday, my day didn't start out like anyone else's in my office. I got in from California at 10:00 on Thursday night. Then the hour plus home from the airport, on the way home I bought some Fritos and a sprite. Once home, I had a beer and a hard boiled egg.
I'm up at 6:00. As is my habit, I put on pajama pants, a t-shirt and a fleece, went down stairs, made coffee and started to empty the dishwasher. Something was wrong. The chickens were making too much noise. So I looked out the window. I knew something was really wrong when I saw Bill running down into the yard. Bill is our favorite rooster. We have about 5, 4 too many. Bill never ins down into the yard, Only Tom does.
I fumbled with my shotgun and tried to find shells. I have a great ability to forget where I keep my guns. Something one would think one would not easily misplace. I managed 2 Upland Game loads. Pretty light, 2 3/4 inch shells. I walked up to the chicken coop, realizing I really couldn't see yet. My eyes are sort of fuzzy in the morning. If you are over 50, you probably understand.
The chickens were in an uproar. A chicken fit if you will. I didn't see any obvious predator. no cats. Then I saw the horses jump about. so I climbed the fence (yes, in my pajamas) into the paddock. I found a baby chick. wondered if it was EmmaGrace's favorite one, she named it Ally.
Out in the pasture I saw what looked like a hawk waddle running through the field. I rubbed my eyes and blinked several times, then realized it was a fox carrying a chicken so I "aimed" the shotgun and shot. Not surprisingly, given that I had just woken up and just hours before had been in California ... I'm guessing I missed since just then, the chicken that looked like a waddling hawk but was really the potential meal of a fox, came running back towards me. He was actually my least favorite rooster ....
I then climbed the fence into the pasture (yes in my pajamas) and wandered about a bit. I scared up a fox, another fox, the same fox, I don't really know. I shot my last round. I didn't find anything. Given the length of the pasture grass and my level of awareness, it isn't surprising that I missed.
I told EmmaGrace (our daughter) about the events of the morning. By the time I got home Friday night, Kathy was wondering why I killed a fox. 13 year old girls can get things rather mixed up and exaggerated ......
My 3" heavy loads are now next to my gun and I think I'll be mowing the pasture this weekend. I wonder what I'll find tomorrow ? I'm getting up early.
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