Ahh, small town living

Today is the kick-off of the Cornfest in our neighboring town. As such, Ben was asked to march in the parade for the VFW Color guard, so we went to see all the fuss. Dani, Esther, and another camp friend joined us in the festivities.

We spotted our mail lady, Marty, and got a pre-parade photo:

Here's the collage of events:

Look at that haul!

And the sweetest face. <3

The one with the bear...

So, this is Adelynne and I just prior to setting out after Nehemiah on a walk on the trail around our land...

Nehemiah found some wild raspberries to pick, and I went to investigate some odd scat while he munched away (after taking this photo)...

You see, I was going to take a picture of the scat to show Ben, because I knew it was from a big animal--as in over 100 pounds, because it looked bigger than Maltby's poop. Then again, I thought it might be puke. So I started to focus the camera to take the picture--this is how it came out...

Looks like a shot from a horror flick, and I was pretty sure it would be too, because as I clicked the button with Adelynne in the sling and an obstinate Nehemiah 30 feet away picking raspberries, there was a great rustling in the brush nearby.

Yeah, I grabbed a very perturbed Nehemiah and hoofed it back to the yard with both of them in arms to tell Ben (who was mowing the lawn), and to get Maltby (who was chasing a phantom creature under our porch, because every time he walks on it the boards squeak, and he thinks his prey is underfoot). My heart was a-poundin' because I know that there are bears, mountain lions, and timberwolves that all range through our area, but I hadn't seen a sign that close to our house before.

Ben's report was that it was black and runny like bear scat (partly why I thought it might be puke), that it reeked when poked, that the dog didn't even notice it, and that if it is indeed bear poop, it was actually a pretty small series of piles.

So either we have a little bear, or a wolf or cougar with intestinal issues.

Great! *rolls eyes; voice dripping with sarcasm*

Here we are, just keepin' it rural!

A Renewed Purpose

Perhaps you have been wondering what has happened in the Saga of the Squirrel since I last posted about it here. I haven't been deliberately eluding you on the subject, there has just been absolutely nothing to report. Zippo. Zilch. Nada.

We haven't seen any squirrels since the beginning of December, of any color. No reds, grays, blacks, purples (ha!). That is until this morning.

I looked out the window as I was eating my breakfast, and there was a little red squirrel eating sunflower seeds on the ground under the bird feeder.

I started shrieking the word, Squirrel! Repeatedly. And my dog, who normally tosses a glance toward the window and then charges for the door looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. For a good 20 seconds. It even took Ben awhile to realize what was happening so he could hype Maltby up and show him that it was really true.

Then the fracas began. Running and barking and jumping and squealing (by Nehemiah). Maltby rushed out the door; though by this time the squirrel was well aware that something was happening that he ought to be concerned about and was long up the tree.

Oh well. Our dog is getting fat. In a way I hope the squirrel comes back. My guys could all use the exercise. Ben's plan is to let it get nice and comfortable and bring some of its friends to the seed feed before he begins to exact his revenge for the incident. I'll let you know how it goes.

PS--If I don't post for awhile, don't be too worried. I have caught the crud that is going around, and I was having contractions--or as they call them in Hypnobabies...birthing or pressure waves all yesterday. It was just a warm up, but I had really convinced myself that this little one wouldn't be coming until March! That could still be the case, but I am a little low energy currently, so I'm making no promises! ;)

Open Season

I promised to blog about our lovely house sitter, so here goes. We had driven approximately 18 hours over 2 days with a van stuffed to the gills, carrying both a 90 lb. Labrador retriever and a sick 17 month old. Ben and I were exhausted!

We rolled into our driveway, where it was 4 degrees and snowing about 15 minutes after Nehemiah's last puking episode. I got out to clean him up, and Ben went inside to start the bath water, bump the heat up, let the dog have some dinner, and get ready to settle back in.

I finished a cursory clean-up and headed for the house, at which point I hear...

Go! Maltby (our dog) go!
Kill it! Kill it!

This might sound odd, but I was actually excited to hear those words, because I was sure that Maltby saw a mouse upon entering the house. He never gets the mice, even when we can hear them, and I thought this was great, because they would finally be on the radar screen for hunting!

I heard a mighty rumbling as our big ole' dog rushed after the critter. What I heard next stopped me in my tracks...

Kill the *$#* red squirrel! Kill it!

Horror struck. A red squirrel? In my house?! Oh this would be the icing on the cake.

Next came the hearty,

Good job Maltby!

YELP! (as the squirrel made one last ditch effort at life and either bit or scratched the dog)

No, kill it! Shake it!

And a final,

GOOD BOY!

At which point I stepped aside in the entry way to allow the dog to carry (prancing the whole way--who am I kidding?!?) his hard fought prize victoriously out the door. I did not want to go inside anymore. It was better to freeze and stink than know what I feared awaited us.

Then again, it was awfully cold.

So, in we went. I guess it could have been a lot worse, though at the time, it didn't feel like it. We had so much to do, and we were so tired!

We called my parents and mother-in-law to let them know that we arrived home safely, and my MIL graciously offered to come help us clean before we went to bed.

That blasted squirrel had pooped in every single room of the house! We had to wash all of the sheets before we could climb into bed, sterilize the changing table and rewash all of the newly clean cloth diapers, sweep and mop everything, bathe the still sick baby, and clean up the few broken picture frames and pottery oil lamp the squirrel knocked over. I'm still trying to figure out where all of the oil spilled! That bugger was on top of cupboards, on the pot rack, on the sashes of the window frames, in the mail basket, knocked off all of the computer speakers and sensors from the desk, and peed on my kitchen table! Oh the insult!

My husband has always enjoyed hunting the destructive red squirrel, but this year I managed to convince him that they were pretty cute, and they gave our dog some much needed exercise and excitement outside. I'm not as charitable now. It is safe to say there is open season on red squirrels around our house, much to Ben's delight. I see the spark of revenge in those eyes, and I doubt any of us will ever look at the littlest squirrels as cute again!

Ben even filled up the bird feeders around the house. Mostly because we like to watch our bird friends, but the spark was back as he actually hoped it would lure some reds our way! And wouldn't you know it, it has been 72 hours and we haven't even seen one (an oddity for sure)! The guns are locked and loaded, and those squirrels are either quaking in their squirrly boots, or (and this is my greatest fear) hiding out in our basement!

If the saga continues, I'll let you know. Meanwhile I am looking for a counter to add to my blog so that you can track the carnage! ;)