Robin's Outdoors

…it’s hunting time!  Walking out wasn’t as bad as I expected.  It wasn’t pitch black and the sun came up quickly for an overcast morning.  <sigh> I saw three mice this morning. If I sound at all like I know what I’m doing please take a moment to oohhh and ahhh at my expertise.  <pause while you laugh.  it’s not that funny, stop laughing.> I had four scent tags and my bottle of lure.  This lure is going to get the best of me.  I got it all over my hands Saturday.  It’s disgusting. I smelled like a goat.  When I got to the first place I thought was a good spot to hang a tag I opened my little bottle of magic, dipped the tag in and it came out clean.  Crap.  I opened it up and put three drops on the tag and put the tag up.  You have to bring tags back with you when you’re done so that the scent is always fresh.  I patiently waited for two more drops on the second tag and hung that up and went on my merry happy little huntress way.  I sat in my spot for over two hours.  I didn’t fidget much nor did I walk around exploring.  I watched all around me.  I listened to what I think was a deer walking in the woods nearby but I couldn’t see it.  I didn’t want to go looking for it and scare it off.  For me, I did well.  I gave up for the morning and walked up the trail.  I dutifully picked up the first smelly tag and put it in its little zipper plastic bag and moved on to the next one.  CRAP!  Crap crap and more crap.  There it was, plain as day, a fresh scrape (the buck scrapes the ground with his feet to mark territory) a few feet from the tag.  I’m sure it wasn’t there when I hung the tag.  It was too dark to see a fresh srape but if it had been there I’d have stepped on it twice, and I hadn’t.  A buck was there and I was not.  I might sit there tomorrow morning.  I knew it was a good place to hang a tag!  Wish I’d stopped there. It’s the spot I first hunted Saturday morning.

I’m staying on the farm this afternoon to see if the deer that was here yesterday comes back.  A doe and fawn and another large deer were here during the night as evidenced by the tracks.  The timer tripped at 9:41 but I’m not sure if that was am or pm.  I could be either.  It might have been after I went to Jj’s or during the night.  Thanks to the technology of the timer, I know nothing more than what dirt and zucchini told me.  I’m sitting on a stool in the seedling house with the lap top on a stack of trays.  Thanks to Mrs. Ryan saying, “Robin, stop looking!” during typing class in 1982, I can watch the field and write at the same time.

I’m going to work on my NaNoWriMo (the site is slow, 150,000+ people are participating this year) story when I finish here.  I think it’s going to be a sad day.  The protagonist’s friend’s husband might die today.  Too bad, huh?  (Laughing to myself as I write – decent fiction really is beyond me.)

It’s 52* and the sky has cleared.  It’s beautiful out here.  I’m going to cut a head of red cabbage and some kale to go with supper.  I’ll sautee them with a little vinegar and sugar.  November 4 and still eating fresh veggies from the outdoor garden.

Something killed a duck two nights ago.  I’m confused by the predator.  The barn door was open so there were likely ducks sleeping in the pen.  This is my fault.  I do know better than to let them sleep outside unprotected. It’s an open invitation to dinner.  She was killed and bled out then moved 12′ to the fence.  The dogs picked up scent yesterday morning.  The head and neck are gone and the top of the body was eaten.  Flesh was pulled off skin, but wasn’t eaten on the body.  I’ve never seen an owl consume a bid this way.  They’ve always eaten head and neck and emptied the body cavity.  Raccoons don’t usually move the carcass, they just eat.  I found fox scat this morning.  The farmcollies followed a definite trail.  Maggie was so agitated by the scent that she marked her territory, something I don’t remember her doing since we had severe coyote problems.  I’m sure it’s fox scat, not coyote.  I found small canine tracks in the garden, smaller than a coyote.  All of my dogs are larger than a coyote.  Maybe a fox killed the duck?  It’s never happened here before so I’ve never seen the evidence.  Dad suggested a weasel.  Could be.  The bleeding out fits.  When a head is torn off or a juglar punctured there’s a lot of blood.  An owl kills then beheads.  Still thinking this one through.  Any ideas?  The barn and hen house doors will be closed at night now.  The hen house pen door is closed but their trap door had been open at night too.  They roost inside, unlike the ducks.

I voted.  I don’t think anything’s going to change other than McCain will stop phone stalking me after today. At least that’s something related to McCain to be thankful for.  Thank you, Obama, for calling me only once.  Sorry I couldn’t vote for you.

No keys to turn over possession of the house from the tenant yet.  She has til midnight.  If she doesn’t do it I’ll be at the court house tomorrow morning.

Time to drown the protagonist’s friend’s husband.  I almost feel like I should go confess murder but I’m a Catholic drop out so I guess I’m off that hook.