Where was I?
Oh, yeah! Inching my way down I-95 listening to the radio. This song came on and I immediately adopted it as my Pentagon Tour Anthem.
And on July 27th 1998, I did. The career that began 40 years ago this week with this.
Ended with this.
Not my picture, but I couldn't find mine.
But every time I hear that song, I think about it.
Nah, the post isn't about Eric Burdon.
It's a short story about living in the country and how wonderful it is, provided you're ready for it.
So, There I was.....*
I've gotten off work, been to the grocery store as well as Tractor Supply and picked up food for Mrs Juvat and I as well as horse feed, cat food, kitten food, dog food and Kidney Care Dog food for Canine 3.
My Truck was fairly well loaded, and I drove up to the Barn to drop off the Horse feed. (No, I'm not going to carry 200 Lbs of Horse Feed from our house to the barn, call me picky.)
The Paint's see me comin' and realize I'm bringing dinner. They're off charging across the pasture like Always Dreaming at the Derby.
Not wanting to run in to them, I slow down at which time, they pull in front and slow down to a slow walk. I guess, they were being thoughtful to Grace, our 30 year old Palomino who ONLY moves at a slow walk.
So, we mosey our way across the property to the barn at which point, I dismount and start carrying the feed to the barn under the watchful eyes of the Paint's.
Once the feed is put away, (into sealed bins, we've got a field mouse problem lately), I prep the horse's evening meal. On tonight's menu will be some feed, with a touch of vitamin and a dash of dewormer. Delish!
Dinner ready to serve, I enter the stall area of the barn.
None of the horses are in their stable which is HIGHLY unusual. They know which side of the bread is buttered, I mean, they know which stall they're fed in.
I write it off to some form of Equine stubbornness and proceed to serve dinner.
I've poured the feed into the first horse's trough and turn to my left and see a smiling face staring down at me from the top of the bars separating the two stalls.
Now, from this view, it's hard to determine, what this is other than a really big Snake!
To be frank, the next couple of seconds is a blank, because my next thought occurred about 60' away. I think I may actually have teleported myself there.
So, I'm standing there with a heart rate in the high hundreds when I feel a nudge from behind me. Cabernet, one of the Paints, is nudging me towards the barn with her nose.
Pretty sure, she's thinking, "You're the fighter pilot, go in there and do some of that fighter pilot stuff, juvat"
Now, I don't like snakes. Not even a little bit.
But, if it is a Rattlesnake, I've got to do something. So, I walk around the barn to the Tack room and open the door you can see in the lower left.
As you can see, this is a very big snake. but, as I can now see, it is NOT a rattlesnake, but a bull snake.
For more on Bull Snakes, also called Gopher Snakes, formally called Pituophis catenifer, visit our good friend Shaun at Prairie Adventure who wrote a post yesterday on this very subject. Great minds think alike, I guess
As I said earlier in the posting, we had a problem with field mice in the barn.
Emphasis on the past tense. Haven't seen a mouse since I saw my friend here.