Something In the Water?

Sheila and Inga have settled their differences; no more goat-up-a-tree games yesterday.  However, the mice colony appears to have been infected with the war bug.  There were squabbles and outright battles all morning.  One mouse would chase another in circles, round and round, until the chasee would turn and go up on its haunches to face the chaser, who would then back off.  Ferocious squeaks (how's that for an oxymoron?) sounded from all corners of the milking room.  What is going on?

The cranky infection has spread.  Camille stopped by in the afternoon and said that Frick and Frack had been spitting gobs at each other and poor Shadow all day.  Eeuw!

I don't believe cranky was involved, but the cats had a great time playing Tyger, Tyger In the Night in the weed patch.  They took turns hiding in the tall grass to ambush the other, leaping out to pounce on a sibling and then race away.

Mother's little helper (not the one in the song by the Rolling Stones!) followed behind as I worked my way pulling weeds down the front path.  Bessie Anne felt that, if Mom wanted holes, she'd dig me holes.  A large portion of the walkway is now weed free, but pocked with craters like the moon.

I had to leave Frank's "jungle" as he'd gotten bored scaring his sister.  Coming closer to his lair, I'd wrap my hand around a clump of weeds and he'd attack my fingers.  Not willing to enter into a game for which I had no defense, I called it quits for the day.

The Children of the Night (coyotes) sang and yipped on the hill across the road under a nearly full moon last night, and the owls were still hunting in the dark this morning.  I love the songs the mountain sings, music without words.