Friends, you may recall my run-in with Satan's Chicken last winter. I am lucky to have escaped alive from the encounter—though, thankfully, the Bird of Evil (Exhibit A) was so astounded by my long-eared handsomeness that he was transfixed with amazement as I passed, it was a close call and a terrifying event.
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| Exhibit A: Satan's Chicken |
Yesterday, my FarmWife directed me to summit yonder hill. I did so, passing rather near to the bush where Satan's Chicken dwells. I was, as you can imagine, all watchful vigilance! And for good reason, for who should emerge from said bush but Satan's Goat?? (Exhibit B)
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| Exhibit B: Satan's Goat |
FarmWife tried to tell me that a) it was a deer and that b) it was just as frightened of me as I was of it. I was not listening. I was performing the second Terrible Spook of my career with FarmWife, during which I wheeled and leapt for five panicked, heedless strides into the tall grass and mounded, spongy earth of the trail-side.
When it comes to spooking strategies, we mules have horse-brain moments (in which we attempt to Flee) and donkey-brain moments (in which we attempt to Examine). It was not even a horse-brain moment. I, Fenway the Humble, will confess that it was a moron-brain moment. FarmWife, keeping her seat and her wits, shouted WHOA in such a tone that my donkey-brain was reactivated and I was able to compose myself. Being a mule, I never slipped! For this, we are thankful.
So, the deer question. FarmWife insists that Satan's Goat was no such thing, but I am sure she is wrong. I have seen deer (exhibit C). This was no deer.
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| Exhibit C: Deer |
Luckily, FarmWife and I mended fences rather quickly. I made up for my terrible moron-spook by striding boldly through every puddle along the remainder of the trail, something that I usually only do under duress. Just my way of saying "sorry." When that wasn't enough to earn her full forgiveness, I offered to write off having heard her refer to me as "Fatty McFatterson" when she thought I wasn't listening. At this, she accepted my olive branch and offered full forgiveness and a fresh start.
We're all safe in Wickersham—at least until Satan's Guinea Pig (Exhibit D) rears it's ugly head.
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| Exhibit D: Satan's Guinea Pig |
Ears to you,
Dear Fenway, I'm sorry to hear about your encounter with the EEEEVILLL goat-thing. My horse Scotty, who is normally a bin-thar-done-that kinda horse, had an equally dramatic loss of brain when we were riding a few days ago. It was a rainy day, and were were going past a wooden bench that is next to the trail. We have passed it many times without notice. On this day however, something about the bench horrified Scotty, perhaps that it was glistening with moisture and looked quite shiny. As soon as he noticed it, he leapt sideways, then whirled around to try to run off home. Fortunately I was able to stop him at half whirl. He was still pretty uneasy about the bench's intentions, but he did walk past it then. He never apologized to me though.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed this!
ReplyDeleteLOL! A very mulish adventure....!
ReplyDeleteWonderful, wish you'd had been with Badger and I when we encountered the GOB of GOBBLERS. Very interesting!
ReplyDeleteAt least it wasn't an evil bicyclist like the one that nearly ran down daughter and Twist!
ReplyDeleteOh Fenway - my heart goes out to you.
ReplyDeleteAll I can say is: Stand Firm. Stay true to the Donkey, dear friend... the only way to fight the devil is to stand and stare. When you flee, he's won. (Oh, the pack string tangles I've seen caused by horse-reactions to the chickens you describe... truly horrific.)
Heartbreaking that such a dear soul as yourself must be handicapped by the horse blood in your veins, but I know you can overcome. Stay true, Fen - you're your father's boy.
Love,
Juniper
Friends, your compassion, understanding, and well-intentioned advice is most brayfully received. I only hope to meet your expectations in my next encounter with evil.
ReplyDeleteFB