The Energizer G-Kid has gone home. Took him to meet his father at the airport in fact. My SIL has a fascinating career as a nuclear welder/instructor/job manager. It takes him all over the world but limits his time with his children, so we work with him to ensure he gets every possible second with them. EGK can probably spot his dad’s luggage on the airport conveyor faster than his dad can.
So I’m trying to catch up on my word count now that I’m alone. A little awkward with my foot propped up, but my toes keep swelling up still. Why are my toes swollen? Let me walk you through a day and a night. Wait, reverse that. We’ll do the night first.
Something large is after my peacocks. One poor bird wound up with a huge hole in his body under his left wing. So nights are dedicated to patrolling every time the outside turtle-killing dogs bark. They had me on an hourly rotation, yet I still didn’t get the trouble maker. I’m leaning toward a bobcat since there’s a strong smell of cat urine around that area now. I’d have preferred a coyote. They run away when confronted; bobcats just grin and say “Step on up and let me sharpen my claws on your hide!” I’ve started carrying a bigger spotlight. Figure the sooner I see him, the sooner I can start running. Hey, I can shoot over my shoulder.
G-kid comes accessorized. Football, cleats, shotgun, compound bow and forty pound field target, fishing rods and reels, and a minimum of three tackle boxes. He has something to wear for every occasion. Most of it camouflage. And of course my cats test any item they find unattended for Cat Hockey worthiness.
My 3AM wake-up call sounded from outside. You never turn on a light because it warns who or whatever is out there you’re coming. Already tired from three nights of critter hunting I stumbled half asleep into the hall. The moment I realized my toes were tangled in something I put the other foot down so I wouldn’t fall. Unfortunately it was right on the bill of the non-Cat Hockey worthy ball cap the other foot was hung in. Now, some ball caps fit your head with plastic adjustable straps that snap together. (I call them emergency release mechanisms. Especially when your pony tail is pulled through the back of the cap, you’re mowing, and a tree decides to reach down and scalp you.) But I didn’t tangle with one of those. I got the high-end version cap with the cloth, triple-sewn, double buckle, bear tooth, non-slip grip. Stumbled and nearly jerked off my own middle toes. Forgot to mention what the cats don’t find Hockey worthy, they sleep on. Spidermonkey grabbed it and took off for the living room and her favorite chair. Did glimpse ‘BONE COLLECTOR’ embroidered on the front and wondered if my kitties’d taken the suggestion to heart, with me their first trophy.
A few hours later I brought hubby coffee in bed and thrust my injured foot under his nose. “Remember this color,” I ordered. “It’s the exact shade of eyeshadow I need for Halloween.”
The injured peacock needed his twice daily dose of Wonderdust as well. Great stuff for wounds. It’s a dry powder you shake in a flat plastic bottle and ‘puff’ on. EGK offered to help so we retired to the peacock pen. Peacocks are large birds with extremely strong wings and a six foot wing span. They can fly ten miles before they set down to give you an idea of how strong. But their legs are fairly weak. You catch them by grabbing a handful of tail feathers in one hand and moving quickly forward to press the other hand down on their backs. Their legs bend, their chests are on the ground, and all you have to do is transfer your hands to their bodies and hold their wings closed.
Never try that with an injured foot. The ‘move quickly’ part has been deleted from the capture equation. EGK is standing at ready with the Wonderdust, but I stupidly step forward on the boo-boo toes and bobble the quick step to get a hand on said bird’s back. Next thing I know I’m caught in a sand storm.
Determined to get away from me, thunderous rapid wing flapping ensues, the noise and thrust equivalent to standing behind a B-52 on take-off. I resort to a two-handed grip on the tail feathers not to lose him. EGK is bent over laughing while my arms are getting jerked out of their sockets and, hair flying, I’m sand-blasted in waves as a giant twenty pound bird keeps ‘flying’ in place. All I could think was he can keep this up ten miles worth. Both my eyes squinched shut against the sand and small pebbles pelting me, I blindly, and maybe a little wildly, do a one-handed pat every few wing beats trying my best to locate this bird’s shoulder blades to immobilize him. Never snap a smart alec answer to a grandchild’s hooted offer to help during such an episode either. Had to rinse my mouth three times before my teeth finally quit gritting together. Eventually wrestled the bird to the ground and treated him. I retired to the shower. Had enough sand in the bottom of the tub I could have squirted an entire bottle of conditioner out and never slipped.
But now I’m writing again to bulk up my self-imposed word count, the critter hunt’s still on, and the toes continue to heal. My banana keeper hit celebrity status during this visit though. Found where EGK scrawled a personal message on its base with a Sharpie. “Petal Panthers Rule! Porkchop #85”. I’ll probably keep it forever for its *sniff, dabs eyes* sentimental value.
Okay. Blackmail. He deserves it for laughing while his grandmother was accosted by a peacock!