A Regular Day

I’m dreaming about yesterday. Every once in a while I snore out a little whistling sound. The Farm Manager will never get a video of my snore, though she has hours of videos of me quietly sleeping after I snore.

I’m sleeping, but don’t even think about taking away my milk bowl!

Yesterday I took a mud bath in the front yard. It was glorious!

No alligators.

Afterward, I grazed for a while, between attempts at nuzzling up to the Farm Manager. Most of the time she lets me mark her jacket or pants, but not yesterday.

I’m starting to look like some of my old stuffed animals.

Today is going to be a regular day. I started out in the smaller mud bath in the back yard.

The back yard mud isn’t as gritty as the front yard mud. It’s more like creamy peanut butter, not the chunky kind.

I also checked out my wading pools. The big one was brand spanking clean, so I went in for a few minutes. It got murky so I got out. Then I decided to check out my swimming pool. The water was cold when I last checked on it, maybe last October. I hopped up the steps, and . . .

Holey moley! Where’s the water?

What the heck is going on around here? Swimming pool #7 is empty! Well, there is some dried up sludge in there. The Farm Manager scurried over and started to push me back away from the edge.

My toys are missing, too. Except for this tiny green duck.

Then she piled up some weird stuff between me and the pool. I can take a hint. I’ll text a memo to The Bartender and I bet he’ll take care of it by tomorrow morning.

Can I borrow your cell phone? I need to text someone.

Since there was Nothing Doing in the back yard, we went to the front yard.

The Mallard family is easier to see if you click on the photo. These are the same ones that hang out in the back yard and eat my leftover corn.

Lately, we have been watching the duckling show next door. The Farm Manager calls them over and we give the Mallard family a treat. I’m looking at three ducks in that picture, can you see them?

These Wood Ducks are hard to see, too. Click here for a professional photo of a male Wood Duck. The colors are spectacular.

We’re excited to have some Wood Ducks in the pond. They don’t look wooden to me. They make a squeaky whistling noise, and they swim around, so I know they are real ducks. (No, they aren’t snoring.)

This naughty plant is in jail.

The front yard has tall tender grass and my bamboo lives out there, too. So, naturally, I head to the front porch for the gourmet potted plants. Oh, look! A miniature blueberry plant. IN A CAGE. What’s up with that? I tried to knock the cage over but it’s going to take some finesse. I’ll work on that later.

The Farm Manager puts food dishes everywhere, like an open air buffet!

Oh, good, my potted succulents are growing back! They taste like tiny cucumbers. Which I don’t like, but these taste the way I wish cucumbers tasted.

I’m innocent!

There was a small accident involving a little table with lettuce plants on it. I had my back turned at the time, so I didn’t see what happened.

I’m outta here.

It’s getting late, anyway. I’ll wait for the Farm Manager to notice that I want to go to the back yard.

Waiting for godot.

This is the path from the front yard to the gate that leads to the aviary and the back yard. I’m parked where I can see the front door, the gate, and the pasture, which is stage left. If you walk down this path and pass me right by, you eventually get to the Duck Show. This is the same path that the deer use to get from next door to our driveway and beyond to the street. From there, they can take the bus to the store and get corn.

Bedtime for Eartha, Carmen, Frieda, moi, Samantha, Windy, Norman, Emilio, Cubicle, Shamrock, Princess Blur, and Boondock.

At the end of the Garden Party, I help herd the poultry back into the aviary. The way I help is by sitting at the gate. They all bunch up around me and won’t go in. This makes the Farm Manager holler, and that makes them mill around and wander off. If I sit there long enough, I can earn an ear of corn, though I have to walk back to the kitchen to eat it. It’s all about corn, all the time.

 

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