Not In Kansas

It started in the morning while in the barn.  A ground squirrel started giving that "danger" chirping right outside the milking room.  I needed to switch out girls, so opened the door, thinking the squirrel would race away, but no.  Evidently I now fall under its aegis; one of the clan.  It stood up on tiny hind feet, five feet away, continuing to chirp and looked me in the eye as if to say, "Pay attention!  Can't you hear the warning?  Run away and hide! NOW!"  Fortunately, the girls had changed places and I was able to obey my leader's command. 

I needed to go to town for a few things, one of which was Velcro strips to rehang the blackboard on the refrigerator.  I explained what I wanted to the nice man at WalMart.  He showed me what they had, and I asked if it had good, strong adhesive.  He told me that it was industrial strength and I could put a battleship together with those strips.  I said, "Oh, good, because that's my next project."  Long pause..."Umm, right."  That'll give him something to think about on long winter nights.

Coming home on Fair Play Road, I rounded a bend and came face to face with a sheep in full wool, loping toward me in the correct lane, followed closely by a guy in a beat-up pickup.  This was a sheep with a destination, and I watched as it passed me and then, in the rear-view mirror, saw it make a legal left-hand turn onto the road going up to the Ranch Estates.  I'm used to seeing hard-pedaling bike riders and red-faced, panting joggers, but I will admit this was something new.  You pretty much know you're not in Kansas anymore.

As an aside, the night before, I found a pretty nest with thirteen eggs tucked in the ferns down under the deck.  Not knowing how old they were, of course they had to be pitched, but it's good to know where the little girls are hiding out.