Please Be Seated

After giving me a dose of attitude the other morning, Tony took a day off and I saw neither hide nor hair of him.  Yesterday he was back and no amount of squirted milk was going to deter him from the breakfast bar.  The crew was not necessarily patient, but they did wait for brunch to be set out.  I've noted that squirrels have a unique way of holding their place in line.  I can't imagine how they do it, but I will find one drop of pee or just one "pellet" in the bowl, left like a calling card.  As for Tony, the mice have decided that if they are to eat at all, they've got to stand their ground.  At times, the two species are munching nose to nose.  I've tried to explain to Tony that, yes, it is an all-you-can-eat buffet, but taking food home is discouraged.  Still he packs his cheeks with meals to go.

No other motorcycle has that deep, throaty rumble that identifies a Harley.  I could hear Dave and his friend, Chainsaw (Jason), coming long before they got to my road.  As they circled the drive, the flock of turkeys resting under the front oak slowly moved off, but gave Chainsaw's girlfriend Brandi, who was riding on the pillion, a sample of the wildlife here.  It's always gratifying to hear the reactions when guests admire the views surrounding Farview.  We spent a pleasant afternoon meal together before they rumbled off again.

Bess is overdue for a summer haircut.  We've dealt with foxtails, the dagger-like seeds from the bracken, and the little Velcro burrs, but there is a new weed this year that is driving us both nutso.  It weaves her fur into a mass that is darned near impossible to brush out.  If she so much as steps off a path, it's there waiting and she comes back a total mess.  Most of last evening was spent trying to make her comfortable.