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Sunday, July 24 2016

When we retired, we traded traffic congestion in the 4th largest city in the country to the more rural traffic problems of living in a place with a mile long driveway. No longer are we waiting in frustration while rubberneckers view the latest accident. Now we're waiting for roadrunners to finish taking a dust bath in the dirt. No longer are we passing Cindy's Secret Sex Toy shop, now we have to hide the eyes of the underaged Border Collie while roadrunners have sex on a dirt road as you wait to pass.

Nothing around here gets in a hurry to do anything but eat. Stop and smell the roses takes on a whole new meaning in the country. And if you're a raccoon, it could mean "stop and smell the garbage." Our garbage can is about a mile away, near the main gate. One night we were coming in after dark and I started to step out and open the gate but saw a rather hefty raccoon poking around by the trashcan. I decided that perhaps now wouldn't be a good time to exit the vehicle, so we watched. And waited. And he didn't leave. He was well aware of the truck, not thirty feet from his little black nose, but there he shuffled around in the headlights, unconcerned.

I was in a hurry. I had to pee. He was not in a hurry. He was on Raccoon Time. So I waited some more. And he poked around some more. Eventually my bladder won. Wars could be fought by angry women who have to pee. I got fighting mad. No raccoon was gonna stand between me and my bathroom. I stepped out of the truck and hollered,

"Hey! I see you!!!"

He stood up. "Who? Me?"

"YES, YOU! Leave! Scram!"

If a raccoon can look affronted, he did, but he ambled his fat ass off into the forest anyway, muttering something about calling his Homeowner's Association on me.

We are almost guaranteed at least 4 bunnies between the house and the main gravel road out of here. Most of the time, we are the only vehicle they ever see, thus they have little or no fear of us, so we have to wait while they eat gravel, play in the dust, flirt with each other, or just sit in the open waiting for a lucky hawk to fly by. And they don't move.

Each trip to town goes something like this:

Slow down for rabbit in the road. Yell at rabbit to move.
"You can't see me. I'm invisible."

"No, you aren't! Get out of the bloody road!"

"I'm invisible."

"No, seriously! Move, you dopey rabbit."

(Honk horn)

"I'm invisible."

(Climb out of truck. Stand on running board and wave arms.)

"I SEE you! Get out of the road!!!"

"Wait? You see me? Seriously?"

"Yes!!! Move!!!"

"Oh crap! This way! No, that way! No, that path is better! Wait! I ran that way this morning. This way!"

(Rabbit is almost off the road, but - )

"No, that direction is better!"

(Rabbit runs all the way across road in opposite direction and stops. Still in the road.)

"Can you see me now?"

Honk horn again.

"Move, you stupid rabbit!"

"OKAY! Geeeeesh... Okay, see you tomorrow, okay? Yeah, but you won't see me because I'll be invisible."


Posted by: forensicfarmgirl AT 04:44 pm   |  Permalink   |  0 Comments  |  Email

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