Pheasant hunting starts Saturday at noon.
This is an exciting time around these parts, considering it is our state bird and all. And to honor the bird that has fed many a Kings, we shall hunt them down and eat ’em. I am guilty of holding an attitude of indifference towards these birds until I learned they were a delicacy to royalty, so now they are my favorite eating bird ever.
Why? Because I am practically royalty on the farm here, you know! A regular Queen of the little furry farm munchkins. My pups and Kitty’s feel so fortunate to have me as their scarlet-skirted governess. So it is only natural I enjoy a bird fitting for sovereignty, too.
Now I just need my crown and staff, and I am ready to walk the fields in my neon orange robe.
But the birds are not ready for flushing yet … there is still work to be done before the bangs of shotguns commence this weekend’s festivities. We’ll have to talk hunting later.
The men around here are still in harvest.
Sensing the loneliness in both our voices, this non-working wife drove over to see her husband to ride around in the John Deere tractor for a bit. Just to be with him. I am his Queen, after all. This had nothing to do with the beautiful scenery and opportune lighting. Nope, just wanted to spend some QT time with my man.
I do miss his face during this season, however. He leaves early and comes home after dark. That’s too long to leave this lady home alone.
He was still loading some beans when I arrived. Husband was in the quiet mood. Dare I say dour, or huffy? So I walked around and waited, taking in the surroundings.
And while I waited, I looked to one of my favorite spots – The Bull Pen.
This area is worthy of caps because I enjoy watching the massive creatures and their mannerisms so much.
First off, they like to fight. Just for the heck of it. Boredom? Maybe. A dominance match to determine who gets the upstairs bedroom? Most naturally, yes.
Honestly, I am not real sure why they fight. There could be lots of profound reasons for their fighting; more complex than I could think up. But Sir Grumpy above did not want much to do with anybody.
Why on earth would a strong, masculine beast dwelling in this wild beauty behave like a grinch, I wonder. He was made for this place, he must realize.
Perhaps he just misses his Queen?