As I sat milking, thinking of nothing in particular, a mouse suddenly dropped from nowhere into the corner of the barn. It had to have jumped from a rafter! It is undoubtedly one of the Flying Wallendas, that troupe of daredevil mice that gathers on the tall feed barrel at dusk. There are about a dozen who leap off into space when I uncover the feed bowls. I think they do it as much for the thrill as for the food. I once sat in a restaurant that overlooked a rushing river and noticed a flotilla of ducks going downstream in the rapids. A little later, a flock of ducks flew by, heading up river. And then there were ducks bobbing by in the water. This scene repeated itself over and over. Those daffy ducks were shooting the chute just for the fun of it, like kids on a roller-coaster. Don't tell me animals don't have a sense of humor.
Smelly Mel came and assessed the septic tank situation. It made me think of Diane Keaton in "Baby Boom." I almost dropped to my knees when he told me what it was going to cost to fix. It's not exactly the sort of problem one can ignore. It isn't going to self-heal or go away in time, and it isn't something one can do without. Mel is booked until next week. It's going to involve backhoes and dump trucks of rock and dollar signs flying by like ducks headed upstream. I left a message for Go-To that we wouldn't be filling in the pit, so I was startled to see him drive up last evening. There are some good people in this world, and Go-To is one of them. He thought Mel might be wrong about the failed leach lines and wanted to check it out further. Go-To worked until I had to get him a flashlight. He's still not satisfied, and is coming back tonight. Mrs. Go-To came along, and it's no surprise that she is just as nice as Go-To.
To be continued.