Doing This

While I finish up my next blog post, here's a tidbit of what I'm working on.....

My newest fosters:

Kittens cure everything

These kitties are so small that they are still figuring out walking and keeping their balance at the same time. Not to worry, give them a week or so and let the kitty storms begin. And just for the record, the Christmas tree was not from the Humane Society of North Texas as an enrichment activity for the kitties. That's likely a gift from me to them to destroy....with time.

Guess what! The new place is coming along:

I recently approved the inside wall structure,
so they may begin the foam insulation and walls.

It's a 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom with laundry room and kitchen

It's about 700 sq ft of perfect-for-me and lots of windows. Everything I need for me, myself and I. And dogs. And cats. 

There's been some visiting horses:

And wow, are they a site to see in the back pasture. A thing of beauty. 

They are gorgeous, gigantic, and here for a week
while their owner went out of town.

 

More soon.....

Wonderful things happening in this amazing world,

Cyndi

Hope, Horses and Huckleberry

 

The other day I was deep into one of those podcasts that sneak attack your soul, when I stumbled upon a conversation that was basically an emotional mic drop. Author Caroline Myss was unpacking something called the anatomy of the spirit. I know, sounds like a mystic yoga move, but stay with me. 

"One way to understand your spirit is that it's part of you that is seeking meaning and purpose. And also, the part of you that's drawn to hope. That has to believe in something more. It's the light of you. It feels like hope. It feels like grace. Your spirit is a part of you that feels like hope."

Um hello cosmic slap to the forehead.

For years I've said things like 'my spirit is in chaos' when things would get confusing, or when I was trapped in a mess or things felt like I had fallen down the rabbit hole in Alice In Wonderland where nothing makes sense but I'm being told yes it makes sense. 

But what I really meant all along? I'd lost hope. Hope in the life that was meant for me. 

Cue Caroline, causally dropping the secret of the universe like it's no big deal.

If you have life, you have purpose. Are you living the life meant for you?

Boom. That's the mic drop. That's the plot twist. That's the soul-shaking, lunch-ruining question that made me spill my iced tea. 

Truth is, for a long time, I wasn't. And it's hard to say that out loud. Because when you realize you've been the main character in the wrong movie, well...that's on you. But guess what? Owning the truth - that I stayed too long in a life not meant for me - has given me the greatest gift: freedom. God saved me from me. And now?

I'm walking through open doors with clarity, conviction, and absolutely no self-betrayal allowed.

I've learned the secret of a scared pause in conversation. I no longer compromise who I am. No more confusion, just alignment. I'm reclaiming a self I never got to be. My spirit keeps hope alive. 

So much Hope

My girl, Hope 💚

Hope is my rescued Shetland pony - all sass, no chill, and a heart made of slowly-thawing butter. 

She came from a rough past and has a PhD in Trust Issues, but over time, she and I have built this hilarious little routine: I approach. She pretends not to know me. I insist on love. She eventually melts. Every time. It's basically the Groundhog Day of pony affection. 

Enter: Morghan (horse whisperer/farm-moving magician/friend extraordinaire) and her adorable daughter, Hattie, whose in the market for a pony who fits her size and heart. Suddenly, the unthinkable crosses my mind: Could Hope be Hattie's Hope too? 

My first instinct was "Nope, Hope is staying put." But then I realized - what if her next open door is actually a little girl in tiny boots who loves like the sun shines? Maybe Hope's spirit needs more room to gallop, more hands to braid her mane, more cookies to nibble from gentle palms. I'm still deciding. It's delicate. Emotional. But full of - yes - hope.  

Jello, or as I call him, Huckleberry

Speaking of hope.....

He has the cutest side eye

Meet my 10 week old foster pup who thinks I'm his emotional support human. 

I've been approved as a foster for the Humane Society of North Texas (based in Fort Worth) and I've received my first foster pup. His name is Jello but he doesn't know that yet because I keep calling him Huckleberry.

He arrived thanks to the heroic efforts of the Humane Society of North Texas who are helping rehome animals displaced by the Kerrville floods. I was more than happy to help wherever I could esp when it comes to animals.

My job? Be his warm, safe, cuddly chew toy who will help bridge his now - to his forever. My challenge? Not keep him forever. 

I've been instructed that I will keep him approx 2 weeks, and the Humane Society will reach back out to me when it's time for me to bring him back. He will then be altered (neutered), given further shots, and made-ready for adoption. He just needs a little more time before those things can occur, hence this is where - and when - a foster home is needed. 

The Humane Society of North Texas does a bang-up job with their foster program. For me, I have had a wonderful experience thus far with great communication and kindness from my foster coordinator. I’ve been given options and choices in regards to dog or cat, size, and girl vs boy preference. When I went to go pick up Jello, the foster coordinator was very thorough in her information regarding Jello and the next steps. Then she gave me a bag of tricks with everything I would need to care for him and handed me the crate with him in it - and left me to figure the rest out. I can do this.

There's irony in this is as I saw the new toy, the blanket, the food and the treats and the puppy pads and all the things in my take-home bag, I myself have purchased items off the Humane Society's Wish List online for them - and now I see first hand where it all goes. To the dogs, cats, fosters, adopters - to those in need. It warmed my heart and brought my experience full circle.

When we made it back home, I was astounded at how The Littles and my Big outside dogs readily welcomed Jello and gave him zero trouble. There was a excited and warm welcome party of Mia and Theo, and also standoff-ish welcome from Charlotte and Maybe, who were quietly being non-aggressive and that's all I ask. Cooper and Sugar were extremely neutral and simply walked by Jello like he lives here already. Another pup, okay. They know me too well.

All the sniffs

Okay then 

The first night went well, and he slept great. Since his first official day here was on a Saturday, it was a little overwhelming for lil 5 lb Jello. The barn, the farm animals, all his new friends, the rain, the heat, and a myriad of other new experiences - all in a day. He was velcor’d to me and I did a lot of holding and cuddling.

Safe and relaxed during farm chores

Which lead to 💤 

But I tell myself daily: I'm a loving stop on his journey. I'm the 'snacks and cuddles' layover before his destination. Still, I already tear up just thinking about saying goodbye. Foster care? Yeah, it's an emotional labor of love. 

Jello aka Huckleberry is snuggly, he's spry, and he's already nailed the doggie door. I'm teaching him leash skills, that nail trims won't be the end of him, and that death by collar is not a real thing. It's basically my side gig to help socialize him and teach him how to strike an irresistible post for his adoption photo shoot. I also promised to write him a sure-to-get-adopted bio that could win over the Grinch. I'll ugly cry when that day comes. You can bet on that.

Even still, 14/10 would foster again.

Overall, this is a test. For he and I.......I hope we pass. 

There's hope for Poppy, at last

l to r, Poppy and Pippa

Ever since I took in these wild n crazy girls, Poppy has been my sweet, skinny, elderly one whose molars are....well, more suggestions than teeth. I've been concerned about her weight from Day 1 when she stepped off the horse trailer and have had her health checked out to now realize it's likely her teeth. 

She came from auction, so her skinnyness kinda made sense. Now it doesn't make sense. It was time. Time for more help.

So I called an equine dentist and let the donkey dental drama began. 

Poppy went first, while the others watched
in horror

I did not know what to expect and quite frankly have never seen, much less heard of this before, and before I could say 'are those teeth?', I watched what appeared to be a cross between an exorcism and dental school horror film. Once again, simply another trainwreck in my barn from which I cannot turn away from - or get away from. Nor could the donkeys. Nor the horses. We were all in this to win it but did anybody really win.

I felt terrible as I was torturing the ones I love, knowing full well that it would be good for them in the long run. Like taking your baby to the doctor for their shots. A mashup of terrible and necessary. Two words that should never be together.

So what really happened was, the dentist went through my girls one by one and I was aching for it to be over as it felt like my very own teeth were being pulled. Good: she was thorough. Bad: it was taking so long. Doing what needed to be done - which is nice, esp that she has a flat rate per equine so you want to get your money's worth. Or do we? Yeah, we do, I guess.

I'm happy to report after the blood bath that I/she were able to isolate Poppy's main problem. Hi, it's me, I'm the problem it's me, your teeth.

Some of the teeth she does have left, are bad. Therefore the equine dentist pulled 4 teeth total, while I watched this never ending dental horror show. 

You'll feel better, Poppy

Say yes to drugs. Luckily, the equine dentist does just that, and gives 'some' sedation prior to starting this unfortunate process. She did say that Poppy will feel better just by getting her bad teeth out. She also said that Poppy does not have the ability to chew grass (and hasn't for awhile) which is part of why she's so thin. Therefore I need to be feeding her mash. Let the mash-making mission begin.

I think that's kinda what I do with Sugar and Theo's dog food anyway, who also have no-teeth issues. I soak their kibble in water, and now I will do the same for Poppy. I can do that for the love of Poppy. 

After all, it's the Sunshine Senior Resort over here and the mash will flow.

Poppy's nasty 4 teeth. 

Then after Poppy was released from the grip of the contraption, Pippa was next. Then Dora, and I saved the best for last, Hope. 

Dora was not a fan. 1 star ☆☆☆☆★
Would not recommend

I'll save you the torture of more dental photos, but please know this. Pippa did 'okay" and Hope did 'awful'. Actually, Hope did terrible and acted a fool. She had a full dental meltdown and tried to sue me mid-procedure. I finally just asked for her to be released as somebody was going to get hurt. Hope gave 0 stars for the experience and would like her money back. She stayed far away from me for days. Just to make sure.

The donkey mash has begun

Morning and night, and is
now being being placed in her own feed bucket

Sadly, the dentist told me that Poppy is quite old (which I knew) and gave her about 5 more years of life (in her opinion, doesn't mean it's true, Poppy). Part of Poppy's body habitus is due to age, and not only her teeth. It's Poppy's teeth though that are not able to chew grass and pellets and allow her body to process food properly. 

So mash it is and mash it will be. After all, the Sunshine Senior Resort's most popular menu item is mash. Secret? It's my favorite texture too. Mash is love. Mash is life.

I loved and hated that the equine dentist also 'aged' each horse and donkey for me, which was about what I had expected their ages to be and I appreciated the confirmation. All in all, it was a good experience. No it wasn’t, who am I kidding. 

Here's a low down of the results:

Poppy - Didn't see this coming. Didn't know what hit her. Hard when your first up to know these things. Let's see: Bad teeth. Missing teeth. 4 teeth pulled which leaves her with not-alot of teeth and none which come together to actually chew anything. Not a good day for Poppy yet better days to come.

Pippa - Extreme overbite therefore her bite is 'off', so she grinded, yes grinded areas to allow for a more appropriate bite. The barn smelled like a dental office. 

Dora - Grumbled the whole time. One cracked and broken tooth that was pulled. Some grinding in areas where her bite was 'off'. Overall, not bad for her age. She's actually already lost a number of teeth just due to age.

Hope - Sedated (as they all were) and utterly intolerant. More sedation, more intolerance. A battle of wills ensued and Hope filed a civil suit against me. It's hard to tell teeth condition with a patient who literally fights back. Wasn't worth the fight. We settled the case out of court.

Emmie (Emerald) - Too young and sat this round out.

The End. For now......

Hoping for no more snakes

Now for the adrenaline-fueled portion of the program. I've killed three snakes now. One with my hands/gardening/farm tools, and one with my shotgun.

Along comes another snake. We'll call him Snake #3. Snake #3 meet my new BFF - snake grasper. Followed swiftly by a tree trimmer decapitation. It was quick, efficient and only mildly traumatic. You may now call me the Snake Slayer. 

Yeah, Snake #3 was smaller than the other 2, and maybe even a different breed of snake as it was hard to tell because it was 9 pm, I'm drowsy and I'm justing trying to go out and turn the barn nightlights on for christ sake. Why does that have to be so hard.

Recommendation by Deja (at Lauren's work)
to be used in conjunction with a machete 

When Deja mentioned to Lauren her snake-killing method, I knew I needed that in my life. I keep my snake graspers in the barn for just these occasions. Luckily for me, I was able to grab them in time. They work like a snake charmer. I used those snake graspers like I was a trainer for the company, giving a presentation of how to do it. "And you grab their neck with the graspers like this, and then you grab your machete and do like this." Yep, I would work for them if they asked me to, I mean why not.  Side gig: Provide in-service for snake killing paraphernalia. That would look good on my nursing resume.

Snake graspers ★★★★★

Wow, so easy. Yeah, you gotta get a little close to the snake. No big deal if you get it before it gets you. And let me tell you what, these snake graspers are for-real meant for snakes - and they hold that snake tight. 

Best $28.49 I've spent

Let me know if you need the link to it. Amazon, who else.

Where was I, and just to reiterate for the inservice, since I do not have a machete yet, I used my brand new tree trimmers and while holding the snake in my graspers, I walked over to get my new, sharp tree trimmers and just like that, I tree-trimmed it's head right off. Deed done.

I think word has gotten out in the snake community. I've not seen another snake yet, but I look every day - trust me. I look. And watch. Because the eggs are too delicious to resist and another will try. Not too worry, I have my arsenal of tools and gun to take care of it. My goal: Get it before it gets me.

Two Fun to Handle

Guess who turned TWO!!!

She's so happy, loves to be sung to,
and looks at Brooks with heart eyes  💕

This girl. 

Yes, you

Sweet, smart, saucy, and a little shy......all with a light that shines, shimmers and sparkles. Never let anyone dim your gorgeous light, my sweets. 

All smiles until 
someone puts you on a horse.
There will be resentment.

Happy Birthday, Olive! I love watching you grow, live your most precious life, and fuel the world with your smile . 💞 I love you so very much.

Light It Up

It's hard to follow a cutie patootie 2 year old who can light up a room. Yet, while on the topic of light, I wanted to share a new addition to the barn - and it's not a chicken. It's lit. 

The barn got a glow-up

One of the doctors at my work blessed me with hanging some new lighting in my barn. (Thank you Dr B!) He even picked it all out and had an idea where he wanted to place it all. It was all very thoughtful and I appreciate it more than you know. Better to see the snakes with. 

Solar dusk to dawn light 

And......dusk to dawn solar string lights, along with some LED lights on the wall inside the barn. They all add up to create a little extra barn sparkle. 

I heard Paul The Turkey talking with the girlz about
the new Party Barn. He's not wrong. 

But wait, there's more fun things happening in the barn -  all 12 chicks are out of the nursery and mingling with the big hens. Betty did a top-tier job raising them and is now enjoying her well-earned retirement. Possibly a margarita. 

Job well done, Betty. Congrats on your retirement!

In other farm news....

I took a fence down that was not my friend......

Before

After

Before taking the old fence down, I caught site of a double rainbow that basically screamed, "Yes, this life is for you." And I believe it. Because finally, finally I'm living the life that's mine. The one meant for me.

So beautiful, God

My animals, my land, my people, my purpose - it's a mosaic of joy, chaos, learning and fierce love. I'm trying to try, do the sacred pause, listening for truth, and leaning hard into hope. And it's all coming together. Thank you dear Lord as this is all you.

So here's to fences removed, puppies fostered, donkey's healed, snakes vanquished, barn lights that twinkle like dreams and grandchildren who light up the world. There is so much hope in this most amazing life.

It took me awhile, but I found the love of my life. It's me. 

With light and laughter,

Cyndi

Another late update, which I tend to have happen lately. No, not another snake.

Max and Maverick

Max and Alexis came over on Sunday and (fingers crossed) I think Max and his family may be willing to adopt Jello. I mean Huckleberry. Wait, no it's Maverick because that's what Max named him and that makes them family. This little pup has no idea of what his name is....yet. He can't even figure out gravity. 

These two cuties made smores and held a pup

Max and Alexis do so much around the farm. They mowed and even made me a new and longer running trail around my 21 acres so that 1 lap is more than 1 mile now. Insert heart eyes. They do everything - trim trees, clean the barn, clear brush, collect and process eggs, fill water buckets, feed the animals and I mean all the animals. And this is not even close to a comprehensive list, my friends. 

I'm most grateful for these two - and my little foster pup would be the luckiest foster pup in the world to be adopted by Max and his family because that family also includes Alexis. 💛  These two love hard and that's just what any foster pup wants the most. Love.

Here's hoping this wish comes true. 

Tooth Good To Be True

Yep, the equine dentist visited the farm this week. I’ll get the blog post up by Monday morning with all the cheeky details! I’ll leave you with a taste of what it was like - for the meantime 🦷

A deeper well

Ain’t no place I'd rather be than Wolfe City, Texas - population me, my chickens, two feral grandkids, a honky tonk full of line dancers, and apparently, enough snakes to film Snakes On A Farm. All my life’s twisty roads led me right here. 

Country Music Please

A new line dancing (and country dancing) honky tonk has been added to the play list......Southern Junction in Royce City.

Thursday night is 2 step and line dance night

I still hit up Calhouns with my gals Carla, Anne, and Jolene - and the rest of the gang. But I have found a place where boots scoot and line dancing is alive and well in Royse City. Y’all, a slew of people show up for this, anywhere from ages 9 - 90 shaking what their mama gave’em.  2 step is taught first then line dancing ensues with 2 dances taught before the music swells and the crowd starts circling the floor. Best part? It's $Free.99 - cheaper than a gas station hot dog. 

Speaking of country music, I’ve been deep diving into Kacey Musgraves new album and my fav is Deeper Well. She sings like she’s been reading my blog, my mind, and drinking my coffee. 

That line:

The things I was taught only took me so far

Had to figure the rest out myself

And then I found a deeper well

It's natural when things lose their shine. So other things can glow. 

I've gotten older now, I know how to take care of myself. I found a deeper well.

Yes, ma’am, hits harder than a shot of whiskey. Or tequila. Not really sure as I don't drink. But it sounds right.

Granted these are only a few of the lyrics in Deeper Well, but this most recent album of hers explores the themes of self-discover, navigating life transitions and finding inspiration. I still find myself amazed at the world we live in where empowered women of all ages have learned to speak their truth, stay in their power and live their life as they desire unapologetically. The peace that comes with staying true to yourself is remarkable, and apparently a hidden gem that when we find it, we can't ever unsee it - thank goodness. And it's also Free.99 and freeing. 

Country Living in the Barn

The chicks are growing up and out of their small enclosure, so I made them an extension whereby Betty could finally be together with her chicks. 

Betty, Beyoncé of the Barnyard 

After I settled the smaller chicks (who are growing!) into the duplex next to the older chicks, I did let Betty in to nurture her babies as she has maternal instincts so strong she’d probably adopt a possum if it walked in.

Betty was like “say less” and open the door 

Nurture is Betty's middle name. She has been busy teaching her 8 chicks life skills (4 easter-eggers and 4 silkies all who I bought at Atwoods and are not Betty's actual children). Don't shhh, don’t tell her she birthed none of them. She tirelessly teaches bug-hunting, food scratching , and how to give the stink eye to barn cats and snakes. She's in it to win it and raise well-adjusted children in this crazy world we live in. 14/10.

Betty with her feathered Brady Bunch

Betty has done so well that I've opened up the duplex so that all 12 chicks can be together with her. The other 4 chicks (who are the oldest) are now in community with Betty and her 8 chicks. So this allows Mama Bear to care for all 12 chicks together and trust me when I say Betty understood the assignment. The adoption papers were signed and Betty now has 12 babies to educate and prepare for the real world. She’s considering a Pinterest board titled, Raising Well-Adjusted Chicks in a Chaotic World.” and who better than Betty. 

Country Living in Grandkiddo Land

Brooks and Olive are living their best lives as tiny, mostly-naked, hose-wielding barn-sperts. 

They spend a lot of the time naked out here

Olive is a good helper, sorta

Olives job? Dump all the chicken feed out, then try to scoop it back up. Sometimes with her hands. She's adorable chaos. 

Brooks, on the other hand, is already acting like Assistant Barn Manager. If I step off the curb, he'll be the one to take over the barn responsibilities and provide an inservice to all others for proper feeding, watering and caretaking. Maybe even issue ID badges and unionize the chickens. I think he was born in a tractor. 

The feral children do
have clothes

Country Horror

Sometimes bad creatures creep into the barn and I don't even realize it. Until they show themselves to me.

This guy

Back story? Because you can't have too many chickens, I recently went to Howe to take a flock of 12 chickens from a lady much like me, but who no longer wanted her chickens. Wait, so I guess she's not really like me. Anyway, I brought all 12 of her Rhode Island Red girlz back home and set them free in the barn to start making new friends.

You go girlz 

So here’s the real thriller: I go to the barn letting my new girlz out, minding my business, collecting eggs when a snake pops up like “Hey, girl.”

Wait, I thought. Did I just see a snake peek its head out at me, from behind that piece of wood? As I walk closer to take a look, I could see it looked like multiple snakes behind the piece of wood leaning against the barn wall. Long story short – it was not multiple snakes, like my eyes told me. It was one big slithery son-of-a-hiss, living its best life off my unpaid egg supply.

Let me tell you, there is no plan when you’re suddenly in a boss battle with a reptile. I would ultimately MacGyver that fight with a floor scraper, shovel, tree trimmers, and a wrench. Oh, add in the metal cutters and it was a DIY horror show meets CrossFit. That snake was strong. I’m pretty sure it could bench press me. Little did I know what was ahead of me.

But really, it all made sense. It had been eating my eggs for a few weeks now, because I had noticed I was picking up less eggs than usual. Odd, I would think. Picking them up right next to the snake's casa and who knew. Not me.

And to think it was the snake that showed itself to me. Just saying hi. This is where things took a turn. I was attempting to push the heavy snake with the scrapper from behind its living quarters and then attempted to pin it with the scrapper. But no. It slithered away so fast I did not see where it went. In one blink of my eye, it was gone. I'm in the barn looking around for it as I'm not going to let it win. If your not first, your last. 

I knew it was still in there, it had to be. It had gone around the corner and was in the other side of the barn now. I'm looking and looking for it, and then I walk by a coop that was almost up against the wall and there, the snake caught my eye. It had slithered up the wall pushing itself between the wall and the coop - up off the ground hiding from me. I had looked under that coop, but it was behind the coop off the floor. Tricky snake.

I begin to gather tools for this job not realizing it would not be enough. My scrapper and my shovel. Yep, that should do it, I'm thinking. I'll pry it out from behind the coop with the scrapper and jab its head off with the shovel. Yeah, that's my plan. I don't know how long I fought with that snake behind the coop and wall but it finally fell to the ground and acted like it wanted to get me. It opened its mouth so wide and showed its teeth and tongue like it was at the dentist. It could open its mouth wider than I could open mine. Where was I? Oh yeah, trying to hold it down with the scrapper and cut its head off somehow. But you know what? Once I was able to sorta pin its head down, I realized how strong it was. And now I understand (after trying and trying) that neither my scrapper or shovel was sharp enough to cut its head off. And it was taking all my energy just to hold the snake down with my scrapper, which is sharp and has a long handle but not ever gonna kill a snake. Not nearly sharp enough for the large rubber tire of a body this snake has. 

What to do. Think, Cyndi, think. OK, within stretching arms reach, I could see a wrench on a shelf that I could then use to pull my tree trimmers close enough to grab. All while holding that snake down with my scraper. So using my third arm, I grabbed those tree trimmers and was grateful I had laid that wrench where I had. It had come in handy. These tree trimmers are about 2 feet long and I use them to trim branches hanging low on trees. Certainly, I could get this finagled around the snakes neck and trim it like I would a tree branch. And after much to-do, twisting and turning and fighting the snake to keep it from running away from me, I finally get to the point where I could ooch my tree trimmers over and under its neck. I then use my knee to push down and close the tree trimmers enough to secure the snake within my grasp so it could no longer get away. And I was finally able to let that scrapper drop to the ground. I then picked that snake up off the ground, about 2 feet away from me in the grip of the tree trimmer.

The unfortunate part about this was that the tree trimmer, although could cut a branch of a tree it was not sharp enough for the thickness and texture of the snake. By now, the rest of the snakes body is trying to wrap itself around the tree trimming handles and get to me so that it could somehow release itself from my grip. I didn’t even scream (on the outside). So I’m holding this snake up off the ground above my head and as far away from my body as I can all while trying to figure out what to do next.

It was in that moment that I realize the only sharp enough instrument that I had in the barn to cut off this snakes head was my metal cutters. They too are about a foot and a half to 2 feet long, and the mouth of them do not open up as big as the tree trimmer. So that means I’ll have to hold the tree trimmer tight with my body and legs while I use my wire cutters to slowly make nips around its neck to cut its head off. Ugh. Yes, it was a slow death, and it was a terrible and awful thing to do. But it was either the snake winning or me winning. And I wasn't gonna be last. 

In this moment, it was hard for me to realize that I was holding a huge snake with my tree trimmers and slowly nipping away at its neck with my metal cutters until finally, the head was separate from its body.  I watched its body thrash about and I knew that there had to be a better way.

Just to think some people enjoy this

It’s also in this moment of a thousand thoughts that I realize I need to clean my barn out of all possible snake hiding places. And that I would do with time, actually the next day. But in this moment, I would also need to figure out how to get rid of the snake that is now in two pieces. Like a good southern lady, I put it in the trash and prayed it wouldn’t come back to haunt me.

First though, one needs to take a pic.

And to think it wasn’t even stretched out all the way

And that night, I dreamed that the snake came back to life and out of that trash receptacle and back to haunt me. 

So I decided to do something about all this snake nonsense. Yep, I'm going to get a snake gun. A shotgun. My first ever gun and one that I will use. 

Side Note: The snake did indeed leave me on Monday via the trashman, and spoiler, my irrational fear of the snake coming back to life was indeed irrational. 

And so on Tuesday, I walked up to the Gun Bar at Academy like Rambo’s little sister, telling the man behind the counter "I need a gun."

He looked at me, blinked twice and calmly said, “….For what?”

“A snake”, I relied with the dead seriousness of a woman who has seen things. "Oooohhh," he said, seemingly relieved of that information. And he and I proceeded to determine what would be best for me and not a snake. I then made my first ever gun purchase: a single shot 410 shotgun and shotgun shells.

Let’s see, am I doing this right?

Wait, I better draw my victim. 

And then set this about 5 feet away from me,
before I fire at it. 

I was told a few profound nuggets from the gun guy: It would be loud. Have a kick. And don't shut my eyes when pulling the trigger. I'm not sure how one prepares themself for their first firing of a shotgun, but likely the most important step is just having the guts to pull the trigger. 

And they sell guns to people like me

Who have no aim or
knowledge of correct gun holding 🤪

I practiced. Missed 4 times. Hit the pretend snake on shot #5. Just enough accuracy to scare a squirrel. Barely.

Yet, I’ve learned many unfortunate things recently. What it takes too buy a gun. What it takes to shoot a gun. How loud a gun is and how it will kick you. And how I need to figure out if I can shoot my gun in the barn and kill a snake and not kill any other living being. People make it seem easy to kill a snake with a gun. But is it that easy? 

5th try ☑️

I'll be ready for the next snake - in my head, anyway.

Cluckingham

Chicken math has been a part of my life for almost 10 years now, starting with my 2 Rhode Island Reds, Ginger and Butterscotch back in 2016-ish. I think about them and look forward to seeing them again one day. They were the ones who taught me what chicken love was all about. And just to think I thought 30 chickens was alot and anybody who had 30 or more chickens must certainly be not-right. I already know I'm not-right and don't need way too many chickens to tell me that. 

Okay, started with two chicks. Now I got….I dunno. A lot. Somewhere between “enough for a dozen eggs” and “might need my own ZIP Code.” I just don't have a real number at this point.

But I can try......Let’s see, include my 12 new chicks and my new 12 Rhode Island Red girlz who joined the flock this past weekend, plus these and those.... insert calculator clicking. Well actually…..it's too hard to say. I don't know how many chickens I have except to say it's in the triple digits. You see, I've lost a few since I've moved here, primarily from old age. I have many old girlz, and one recent passing was a tough one, Veronica, my diva bantam. 

Beauty Queen of the Flock

Veronica was my heart in chicken form. I cried a good cry, and I was extra wonky for days. I am always wonky when I lose a chicken, but this was way worse. I knew she was old, and I knew she wasn't going to make it once she 'went down' inside a coop to take her last breathes. 

Back in the day, she would sit on the dog
bed, I mean, her throne

Always an excellent photo bomber

Girl, I'm gonna miss you. Still scanning the yard for you. 

Rest easy, my sweets.

We will all miss you 💔

I've found my deeper well,

Cyndi, Queen of Cluckingham

Late addition to the blog, just as it was to be posted.......

Okay, I went to the barn to check for eggs tonight, turn their night lights on, and make sure everyone was tucked in tight just before dark as I always do. While checking for eggs, guess what I saw: a 🐍

Yas! A big one, too. Just sitting in a roosting box having dinner like he pays rent. 

So what do I do?  I RAN! Like Forrest Gump back to the house, grabbed my shotgun, my shells and ear protection and locked the dogs up in the house then literally RAN back to the barn putting my ear protection on all at the same time. 

I got back to the barn and the snake was still there. I hurriedly put a shell in and dang it if the chickens were curious about the snake. I kept trying to shoo them away with my end of my gun and finally could take a shot. I took the safety off, aimed and fired. BOOM! I hit it! I loaded my gun again and BOOM! I hit it again. It blew 2 big holes in the snake but it was a big enough snake and still moving. So you guessed it, while it was bleeding and I knew it would eventually die, I loaded up a 3rd shell and hit it again. I blew that sucker up. Then, for good measure, I took my new tree trimmers (I had gotten after the last snake incident) and I tree-trimmed its head off. 

You just try to get away, go ahead while I load another shell

Yeppers, I blew a hole in my roosting area too

My new tree trimmers are snake-sharp.

I have no patience for any snake in my barn. Stay out. I’ve got aim now and vengeance in my soul. I will blow you up. And lastly, there will be golf balls placed all around for you to swallow and I hope you enjoy those too while I go grab my gun.

I still can't believe that the same day I practice shooting my shotgun for the first time is the same day I actually use it for the purpose intended. Just so you know, I did not hesitate. I did it. I'll do it again. You’ve been warned, reptile demons.

Stay county y’all.