What Do I Do With It????

DUE TO THE GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS IN THIS BLOG, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

I love my life! I have some of the most random strange shit happen to me. Or, maybe it doesn't happen to me, I probably bring it on. Whatever the case it's usually random, weird and funny. Take the one legged chicken for example. Chickens break their legs all the time but most people don't keep them around. They would probably kill them and eat them. I couldn't do that. I took care of her and carried her to where she needed to go and she kept getting better and better. Now she actually puts weight on her bad leg when she walks. She's a fighter. How could I kill her and eat her. It wouldn't be right. It's funny to me that I have a chicken with a broken leg. Which brings me to my random weird story for today.

After my last chicken was eaten by a raccoon, I took measures to prevent it from happening again (see blog about shooting raccoon off the roof). I set out a live trap with bait. I didn't get anything for the first few days after the chicken massacre so I just left the trap set and forgot about it. Today I was in the barn doing my usual chores when I hear a guttural growl. It honestly sounded like a mountain lion. Living in Indiana however, I quickly dismissed that idea and figured it was probably Bear coughing and it was just echoing through the barn. About a minute later I heard it again. You know that if you ignore something, then it really didn't happen. That's what I chose to do. Ignore it. I went about the rest of my chores and was heading to the back of the barn where the bunnies are. I opened the door and found the source of the terrible growls. I got myself a raccoon! I will admit as I walked through the door and saw it, I screamed like a girl and almost fell back through the doorway. I'm so tough. I walked a little closer to the trap. He just sat there looking at me and I noticed that there was blood on his back end. I thought maybe he had hurt himself trying to claw his way out of the trap. I very gingerly picked up the cage; I was afraid he would reach up and bite me. I put him in the back of my pickup on the open tailgate. As I examined him a little closer I saw the source of his bleeding. He had no BUTT! Something had literally taken a bite out of his ass. My plan had been to drive him somewhere far away and let him go. How do you in good conscience let a raccoon go without a butt. All the other raccoons will make fun of him. Not to mention that's gotta hurt. What do I do???? Call Bryan. He must have actually been working because he didn't answer his phone. Shit! now what? Call Joe. I call Joe at work and have him pulled out of a room with a patient. "Joe, I got a raccoon in the trap and it has no butt. What do I do?" A few moments of silence, then......."What do you mean it has no butt?" "No butt. Ass ends flat with a gaping hole the size of a baseball." "Ohhhhhh! Take him 10 miles away and let him go." "You don't think I should shoot him?" "No, just let him go and get out of the way so he doesn't bite you." I don't think Joe understands the magnitude of the raccoons injuries. Plus Joe is very tenderhearted and doesn't like the idea of killing animals. Bryan finally called me back and he thought that the humane thing to do would be to put him out of his misery. I agreed, but I didn't think I could do it. I got two more opinions. One from my Vet and the other from a wildlife rescue center. Both agreed he should be killed. Now what? Bryan called his father-in-law to come over and do the dirty work. I was still vacillating between letting him go and killing him. I went outside to wait for Tommy and when I looked into the cage, there were intestines all over the bottom of the cage and oozing onto the bed of my truck. Gross! Gross! Gross! That was pretty definitive. Nothing is going to live long without it's intestines. The little thing still stared at me and growled when I got close. I took him out by the river and waited for Tommy. As I walked, stringy tubes of intestines dangled out the bottom of the cage. I'm looking at them thinking...Those must be the small intestines and those bigger diameter ones must be his large intestines. Forever the nurse. Tommy got here and I told him to hurry because he's losing his guts. It took 3 shots to the head with a .22 before the thing died. Those little buggers are tough! I felt bad for him, but it was the right thing to do. I wish I knew what got him in the first place. What are the odds that one would trap a raccoon with no butt. Only me.
Rest in peace you little chicken eater. It just goes to show you that if you do something bad, it's always going to come back and bite you in the ass. Let that be a lesson to all of us.

Happy Birthday Sarah

Sorry I don't have any video for you, but Happy Birthday! Passing your last final and being done with your first semester of nursing school should be the best present you could get for your birthday. Right? So does that mean I don't have to get you anything? Just a thought. Have a wonderful day! I Love You.(kind of)

Hunting Season

Hunting season for mushrooms that is. For those of you who don't know about the mushroom hunter's world, I'll give you a little insight from a non-mushroom hunter living with a mushroom hunter's perspective. First off, the mushrooms in question are Morel mushrooms. Their are many varieties of mushrooms found in the woods, all are not edible and can be very dangerous. The Morel has a distinct shape. It is easily recognizable so mistaking it for a poisonous one is next to impossible unless you are a moron. Then anything is possible. Hunting mushrooms is a lot like hunting of any kind. Let's discuss the similarities.

Mushroom Hunting season is around the end of April, first week of May. You can hunt later if you go to Michigan. The season is different than deer hunting season so there is less of a chance you will get shot by a game hunter. Tools required are a mesh bag and a hat. No guns are involved (that's why I don't go). The mesh bag is to collect your shrooms in, plus spores from the shrooms will fall through the mesh to set root for next years crop. The hat is to protect your head from branches. Most people hunt with their heads down so consequently they run into low hanging branches. Maybe that doesn't happen to most people but it sure happened to me the few times I have gone. Maybe I should have worn a helmet. Die hard shroom hunters never give away their hunting locations for fear someone will encroach on their territory, much like that of deer hunters. The debris left after shroom hunting is bugs, mushroom scraps, flour and grease. The debris left after deer hunting however is a lot messier. I found a frozen lung in the driveway one time. GROSS! The other similarity is that you should always get permission to hunt on someone else's property. Joe found that out when someone called the cops on him for trespassing. He was let go after a thorough body cavity search.

Next, it's time to prepare your trophies. Apparently most shroomers have a preferred way of fixing them. The recipes that I have come across involve flour and lots of butter and or cream. Not for the diet conscience. Bread up the mushrooms with flour and then fry them in about 2 lbs. of butter. Call me cynical but I'm pretty sure if you floured up a tennis shoe and fried it in butter it might not be half bad either. They don't taste good raw and sauteing makes them a little chewy. Don't get me wrong, they do have a pretty good flavor for a mushroom but I really don't understand their appeal. I certainly wouldn't pay $80.00 a pound for them. If the truth be told, I think that it's more the hunt that's fun and rewarding than the actual product. It's the tales that are told about the big find that keeps the true mushroom hunters forever on the trail of the elusive Morel.

Oh, remember the Smurf's cartoon? I'm convinced that their houses are Morel mushrooms. They look just like them in a cartoon sort of way. Plus how else would you explain the photo above. Because of Joe there are homeless Smurf's out there. Poor little guys. In my opinion they need to pick a different type of mushroom home anyway. Who would want to live in a house shaped like a penis?

Spring Chores

I know, I've been slacking again. I've been a busy girl lately trying to clean up old man winter's mess. Gettin the old homestead ready for sunny weather. Of course I can't just do the essentials. I have to go a little over the top. I decided to plant a vegetable garden this year, so I made a raised bed garden using cement cinder blocks (since treated wood is toxic) and so far I've brought in a yard and a 1/2 of garden soil. That translates into over 5,000 lbs. of material that I have lifted in the last 3 days. I still have to get another truck load of dirt and another of mulch. Mulch doesn't weigh as much per shovel full, but I ALWAYS get poison ivy when I work with it. As I was lifting the cement blocks (76 total) one by one and putting them into place, I had to ask Joe: "Who's idea was this anyway?" He is very quick to point out that I bring this on all by myself. If it was up to him though the yard would look like a jungle. I told him since he wasn't helping, then he couldn't have any of my bountiful harvest. He can't have any of the vegetables either. I have to go now. I have to get started on the gazebo for the chicken pen.

Facebook Etiquette

I joined facebook the other day as some of you know. I'm probably going to get kicked off. There is a pressure to be politically correct which I am usually not. (Bryan doesn't subscribe to that way of thinking either.) I don't want my kids to be embarrassed by what I say. (Wait...when have I ever worried about that before???) Oh, the hell with it. What's the worst that can happen....someone un-friends me.

Thanks!

By the way, when I went to the ER; Bryan, Sarah, Amanda and Brad all showed up. Joe even cancelled patients for the next day so he could take me to the doctor. I have a hard time asking for help and I don't want people to have to go out of their way for me, but it's nice to know that they will. Thanks for being there guys! I love you all so much!

Bunnies For Sale

I still have the three bunnies that Bryan and I picked up at an Amish farm. They've gotten really big and not to friendly. Toby hisses at you if you try to pick her up. I can hold Daisy and Happy, but if they think they can get away they scratch you to pieces trying to jump out of your arms. Their toenails are like razors. I could never let any of the kids hold them which sucks because that is why I got them in the first place. It looked like Easter the other day when I looked out the window and saw all of the bunnies running around the yard. The wind had blown over their hutch and they all escaped. I figured they would all be long gone once they tasted freedom. They must like it here more than I thought because they all stayed close. I trapped Happy with a box. Toby trapped herself by running in to the open tipped over cage. Daisy was being more difficult. She was hiding under a pine tree and I couldn't get close to her. When she did get out in the open I tried to catch her with a hammock. The hammock was the closest thing to a net that I had. That didn't work. I put out a live trap, but she wasn't having any of that either. In the morning she was still hanging around by the garage. I corralled her into the garage with the help of Bear and them I closed the doors. After Bear wore her out I was able to get her back into her cage. Anyone want some cute pain in the ass bunnies?

Under The Weather

I haven't been blogging lately because I feel like SHIT! Last Monday afternoon I started having pelvic pain that progressively got worse until I was doubled up in the fetal position on the dining room floor. Brad and Joe both showed up to take me to the ER. Poor Brad thought I was dying. Joe was his calm usual self. After 6 hours in the ER, a CT scan and ultrasound and lots of narcotics; it was determined that I have an ovarian cyst. Why it was causing so much pain, they don't really know. I wasn't real happy with the ER Doc. After the results of the tests, he came in and told me that I had a mass on my ovary and spots on my liver. Being a medical person, that means I have ovarian cancer with mets to my liver. Talk about being freaked out. Thank God for Joe. He went and read the report and deciphered it a little differently. I did have an MRI yesterday to see what the spots on my liver are. They turned out to be nothing of concern. I'm still having lots of pain, but apparently I just have to suck it up until the cyst goes away on its own. I could have my ovary removed, but I really don't want to lose one of my girls. If your a guy reading this, would you want one of your testicles removed? I didn't think so.