On The Hunt

          I went on the hunt this week and even though necessary, I don't like it one bit. No, not one bit. Maybe my heart has softened too much with age.

          "Peg! What are you going on about now!" you exclaim.

          Ginger, my little terrier, is excellent for letting me know when we have a mouse in the house. No matter how quiet they are she hears them. And she heard this one as he quietly munched whatever bit of food he found on the floor. But make no mistake about it. These mice know exactly where the cat food dish is!

          I keep a kennel for quarantining. Mostly I use it when I'm feeding special food to one of our tribe and don't want the others to get it. It's also become a favorite place for Spitfire to snooze the day away.

          I saw Ginger standing and staring.

           Slowly I lifted the sleeping mat and spotted a furry little critter between the kennel and the wall.  He didn't seem to know I was there and continued to eat whatever he held between his front paws. I set the mat down and went for Spitfire, my mighty hunter. That was a total bust! He didn't catch the scent and couldn't figure out why I'd awakened him.

          So, no matter how distasteful it is to me, I did what I had to do. I set a trap. As a matter of fact I set three traps. Where you see one, there are more. I put a trap under the butcher block, close to where I saw the mouse, one behind the trash can, and one in the broom closet.

          The next morning, when I checked, the trap under the butcher block was gone. I looked all around the kitchen and dining room and didn't find it. The trap in the closet got a mouse and the other one hadn't been sprung.

          Later in the morning I found my missing trap. It was in the living room. And what do you suppose my trap had caught?

          "A mouse?" you guess.

          That's a very good guess but it's also wrong. In my trap was a vole. Sort of a mouse like-alike but the tail's shorter, the nose more narrow, and my cats won't eat them — not even if they catch them! But they will kill them.

          I picked up the trap and saw the poor guy was caught by his shoulder. And I was sad at how he must've suffered. I hate that! "Mike," I called. "Can we live-trap these guys and turn 'em loose?"

          "No! They'll just find their way back in."

          I knew that's what he'd say.

          Do you know what I did with the mouse and vole? I put 'em out in the yard under the bird feeders. Besides the birds of prey like owls, hawks, and eagles, blue jays and crows will eat mice too.

          "Peg, why didn't you just give it to one of the cats?" you ask.

          Because they'd bat it around for a while and may or may not eat it. And I don't want a dead mouse in the dog run where the dogs could get it.

          I watched from my kitchen window for a while but never saw who got the mouse. Later in the afternoon I had an occasion to walk past and saw the mouse was gone but the vole was still there.

          Maybe the birds don't like voles either, I thought. But I bet the possum will eat it.

          I reset the traps.

          It was early evening while we were watching TV that we heard the distinctive snap of a mouse trap. I left my comfy recliner and went to check. Down on my hands and knees I go and peer under the butcher block. "Missed him!" I called to Mike. Then, about a foot away, I see him. It was another vole. He's laying there in a puddle of blood. You know what that means, don't you? It means he didn't die right away. His heart continued to beat as it pumped his life's blood from the wound in his head. I supported my weight on my right hand as I reached behind the butcher block with my left and picked him up by his little tail. He dripped. I saw the drip form and thought about trying to catch it before it hit the carpet. I'd no sooner thought the thought then I felt the warm droplet of blood splatter on the back of my supporting hand. I caught it without even trying. It'll wash off, I consoled myself.

          That cat!

          That darn cat!

          This time it's Spitfire.

          That shithead isn't hungry but he does like a nice tender baby rabbit once in a while. I was putting his breakfast out when he jumped over the fence with this baby in his mouth. I watched him set the baby down and sniff his breakfast. The baby took off as fast as he could go but not fast enough to outrun Spitfire. He caught him and brought him back. He tried twice more to get away before I went in the house and shut the door. I know better than to try to rescue the baby. For one thing, he won't live. For another, Spitfire would just go back to the nest and take another one. So I let him have it. I went out later to see what was left. I wanted to get it cleaned up before I let the dogs back out in the run again. But he only left a little poop sack and a few tufts of fur. That was it. I wonder, are baby rabbit bones tender? Spitfire eats everything from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.

          I saw the Green Heron at my pond again. This time I was on foot so I was able to get a little closer before he detected me.

          While I'm talking about critters let me show you this picture. This coon has been coming around quite a bit. He eats whatever cat food is left at the end of the day. I stood in the kitchen and watched him through the door several times. This is the three-legged coon I first showed you a year or so ago. I don't imagine there are too many of them around. He does have his other leg but he doesn't use it. He just keeps it tucked up close to his body. It seems like if he'd injured it, he'd start using it again once it healed. What could've happened to him to cause him to permanently lose the use of his leg?

          We had rain. Oh my gosh! Did we ever have the rain! It came down in buckets for most of one day and we had showers a couple of other days. My pond is full to overflowing! "I wish it stayed this full all the time," Mike mused.

          "If wishes were horses than beggars would ride," I recited the nursery rhyme.

          "I don't even know what the means," Mike said.

          "It means stop wishing for things you can't have!" Something you learn at a very young age when you grow up in a big family.

          It was still raining lightly when we went down to the pond on the golf cart. I had Mike wait for me while I took a couple of raindrop pics for you.

          Along with the rain we had some pretty strong winds. We made a trip to town for nanners and milk and saw a tree down across Jill's driveway. She lives in the first house on our road and I don't think she has a man in the house to clean this stuff up.

          "When we get back I'll get my tractor and push it out of the way for her," Mike volunteered.

          "That'd be great. At least then she can get out if she has to."

          At the bottom of the hill, just before you cross the Rainbow Bridge is where this new water tank sits. We've been told it's to pump water directly to some well sites.

           Another causality of the wind.

          I didn't go with Mike when he pushed the tree out of the driveway but we did take a golf cart ride down a little later in the day.

          The next day was beautiful compared to what we'd been having. At least it wasn't raining anymore and we had a nice breeze. I washed a load of laundry and hung it out to dry.

          I used to love to listen to the sounds of nature around me as I hung the clothes up. But our mountain solitude is broken by the constant hum of well pumps and compressor stations running twenty-four seven. It makes me a tad bit upset but there isn't anything I can do about it.

          On this day I heard the distinctive sound of a chainsaw. I called Mike. I knew he'd want to go and investigate.

          I finished hanging the laundry and we decide to get our afternoon walk in and walk out to the end of the road, about a quarter mile away.

          "What's that other sound I hear?" Mike asked. "It's like a whine."

          "I don't know. Maybe from one of the gas pads?"

          That handsome Jon Robinson was coming in as we were going out. "They're cutting the trees out by the road," Jon told Mike.

          The water is starting to creep into the Kipp's yard.

          A carpet of moss covering downed trees. Nature reclaims.

          By the time we get there the chainsawers are done cutting up Jill's tree.

          We keep on going and see the guys working at the end of our road. Mike spent some time talking with this guy, asking about the equipment, where they're from, who they work for, that kind of stuff.

          "We're out of Blossburg," he answered Mike's question.

          "I don't know where that is," I chimed in.

          "It's up near Mansfield. About 60 miles or so from here."

          "Who are you working for?" Mike wanted to know.

          "Right now we're working for Penelec." That's one of the power companies that services our area. "We'll follow all their lines and cut the branches back like this," and he made a sweeping gesture to indicate the swath they'd already cut.

          "How often do you have to change the blade?" Mike asked.

          He had to think about that one for a minute. "Hmmm. About every three months, I'd say. Sometimes if we're cutting a lot of pine it'll get covered with sap and get sticky, then we might have to change it before that."

          The mustard is blooming. The white one is Garlic Mustard and you can eat all parts of this plant.

          This yellow one I was tempted to call Black Mustard then I saw the leaves aren't quite right to be that. I'm thinking it's Yellow Rocket — which is still a mustard. It's an early mustard and the way the leaves are attached to the stem make the difference between the two plants.

          My yard is adorned with lots and lots of these pretty yellow flowers.

          "Dandelions? Peg, really?"

          Yep. It makes me happy to look out over the yard and see these sunny yellow flowers sprinkled all around. But besides that, Dandelions are revered for their wide array of medicinal properties. For centuries it's been used to treat cancer, acne, liver disease, and digestive disorders.   Dandelion is also edible. It can be eaten cooked or raw as an excellent source of vitamins A, C, E, K, folate and small amounts of other B vitamins. What's more, the greens provide a substantial amount of minerals including iron, calcium, magnesium, and potassium

          Our Rhodies are blooming.

          Wood Violets. Also edible. You can eat the flowers fresh or turn them into jelly, jams, syrup, or candy. The leaves can be used in a salad or cooked like spinach.

          Creeping Charlie, Ground Ivy, or Gill-over-the-ground. You can eat the leaves when they're young and have a minty taste.

          These are Azure Bluets or Quaker Ladies.

          "I always called them Forget-me-nots," Miss Rosie told me. "Until you told me they weren't."

          Bluets have four petals. Forget-me-nots have five and are much larger.

          Growing amid the Bluets and Cinquefoil I found this odd shaped flower. 

          Actually, it was no accident. I knew these grew in the area and I went looking for them. This bright little jewel can easily be mistaken for an orchid. It's Fringed Polygala, aka Gaywings, and Flowering Wintergreen. This plant was used to increase milk production in mammals. The Iroquois used it mostly for skin inflammations such as abscesses, boils, and sores.

          If you're anything like me, you call all these early yellow spring flowers Buttercups. But this is not a buttercup. This is Dwarf Cinquefoil. I can tell by the leaves. Other common names is Five-fingers and Running Five-fingers. I'm guessing because it has five leaves?

          Early settlers used this plant as a tonic and astringent. Even today, herbalists claim it's a good gargle and mouthwash and a good remedy for diarrhea. The root as well as the leaves can be used.

          I went out this morning and these guys popped up overnight! They seem to follow the exposed root of a dead tree. I'm not 100% sure but I think it was an Ash tree. This one runs inside the dog run.

          And this one runs outside.

          I tried to look them up to see if they're edible but didn't find them — or rather, I didn't spend much time looking for them. That's probably why I couldn't find them.

          In my craft room this week I made an angel for our Pastor's wife. I used an old earring for a necklace. It's one that my beautiful friend Jody gave me to use for craft projects. Miss Carolyn has breast cancer and the ladies of my church got together and made her a goody basket.

          Church was outside this morning and we dropped off our gifts as we drove in. Miss Sherri put the basket together before the service began. Here Pastor Rick is holding up the completed basket for all to see.

          Miss Carolyn, sitting in the Jeep, was so surprised!

          To round out my week, I worked on my Flower Garden. This is all I've got done on it. I'm thinking it's got enough flowers and maybe what it needs are a few sparkleys. You know, a few beads.

          I got a letter in the mail this past week. It seems I've been somewhat negligent in my follow-ups! J.D. asked me a ton of questions — which I love. Hopefully we can get to them next time.

          Let's call this one done!