Anyone who knows me is aware that "normal" is a relative term in my life. The drummer to whom I march isn't even in the same band! Be that as it may, things got back to as close to normal as they ever get around here yesterday. The girls acted as if nothing had ever happened and all came in to be milked right on cue. Sheila and Inga - oh my gosh, they were stretched to the limit. Poor things. I had tried to warn them, but they were too scared to hear a word. It's almost impossible to get a grip on Inga's little nippies when she's that full. They stick out more to the sides when her udder is tight and I got sprayed good until I could get enough emptied out to point the "nozzle" into the bucket. Sheila only needed a light touch and then for a bit I didn't even have to squeeze. It was like opening the spigot and the milk just flowed out from the pressure. I had a lot of milk to haul back up to the house. We all felt a lot better when that chore was done.
Ground squirrels live on the ground. Grey squirrels live in trees. Them's the rules. There's a rebel in every crowd, and I have a ground squirrel who is doing a crossover. He gets himself up on the bird feeder in the big oak and not only helps himself to the bird seed, he sits there and gives that extremely irritating yip, yip, yip and drives away the birds for whom the seed was intended. It's just not the norm.