I didn’t talk about it, but last month almost to the day, we lost Neville. He was our little kitty from the Mountain Farmlet.
Neville was aloof
This morning almost a month to the day Lil’Bit has vanished. If she does not come home we will not be getting another kitty.
Lil’Bit required much attention
Some sort of Boogie Beast is making the circuit in its nightly hunts and none of us on our little street can keep kitties anymore. I am guessing fox or coyote as there is never any evidence left behind. This will be the fourth kitty to have vanished and as you may recall Smoky and Clause just disappeared overnight too.
This Eastern Garter snake is non venomous and a pest predator. I enjoyed seeing it hanging out behind my new herb bed. I have (had?) a resident vole that moved in and stayed for the past three months. Although, I haven’t seen the Garter snake or the vole for a couple of weeks… 🙂
Learn more about Eastern Garter snakes: CLICK HERE
I sit here with so many words in my brain, things I might say, things perhaps I should not say, in a word:
emotional
On Tuesday afternoon I heard the little dog from across the street yelp. I ran out front to see a big green truck stop, wait, then take off. This truck frequents our street often looking for goodies in our junk piles we place out for monthly collection. He usually turns at he end of the lane and goes back out to the main road. Not this time. This time he had the nerve to drive through our neighbors property to get to the road on the other side!
Thankfully, little Payden is none the worse for the event.
Later that afternoon Bob came home and said, “I need your help! Chuck says the new neighbor has run over Miss Dixie!”
I never heard a thing. Surveying the road out front of our house I clearly see by the feathers that she hit her and kept right on going. I followed the trail of feathers leading back into our yard to find her cowering under a bush. She was badly hurt and I knew what needed to be done.
You may find it odd for someone who raises chickens for the table to have a hard time with
what needs to be done,
but it remains that I did.
Since Tuesday I kept waiting for the lady next door to come to me and say she was sorry, or at least to tell me a lie, but she has not. I suppose she could just be feeling ashamed, but don’t believe that is the case.
Like that guy in the truck, the same afternoon, she just drove on and ostensibly couldn’t care less. People like that bother me. I want to tell her about Dixie. About how she came to be wild, about her run-ins with owls, hawks, tomato loving neighbors, and wayward dogs. I want her to know about how she had been a survivor for all these years, and how just recently, she had started laying at home again and hooked onto my other chickens in the chicken yard. (Although she still preferred to roost high in the tree out back.)
I want her to care.
However, when she kept going that afternoon, and has not come to me to say anything in the way of regrets, I simply know that she does not care. To her Miss Dixie was just a stupid chicken in the road.
Goodbye, Miss Dixie
Looking for adventure
In whatever came her way…
She was born
Born to be wild
She could fly so high
I never thought she’d die (not like this)
Born to be wild
Born to be wild
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Life on the Farmlet 