The Hero Life on the farm can come in many forms, most depending upon who you are, really. Also, the type of farm can be a major factor as to its livability. I once met a donkey who lived on a dairy (had a raspy cough that would surface now and again when he spoke at length) and he was quite the forlorn character, to say the least. But my farm is nothing that would bring anyone down (not unless you are Old Red, the hound dog). The tall ones that own the place are some goodly folk, and they work hard to keep things smooth and tidy for us. Still, the social order of the farm does seem to escape them as they go about their work. At the top of the “pecking order” was the hen house. It was a place of incredible noise most of the time, but that noise was just the ladies rattling on about the list of events, chores, and gossip of all forms from every corner of the property. It was said that old Betty Longbeak had a crow that delivered news from afar. Truly, the hens were the most well-connected brood of the farmyard. They used their compiled chatter as currency in trade for favors, and sometimes caused a stir when the news got garbled up in the process, but they were the printing presses of our little world and news had to come in somehow. Every once in a while the ducks would get in an uproar cause the pig had muddied up the nice end of the pond, and then Old Red would have to saunter down from his porch and grumble at them to quiet down. That old hound dog and those ducks had been “on the outs” since they had discovered Reds previous career as a “fetch”. Then there were the turkeys... A bunch of jokers, the lot of them. From sunrise to sunset they milled about the yard, telling jokes (ofter the same ones, or each others rehashed) and gobbling up a storm of laughter. And when they got together with the ducks, a virtual party was inevitable. Quacks and gobbles for hours on end. The poor milk cows got the worst of it during these occasions because their barn was just at the edge of the pond, but they rarely voiced their complaints to Red. All of this was usually too much for Old Red anyways, and that was when Clarence the farm pig came in handy. He was always good for a party, but no one ever wanted him around cause he had no real sense of hygiene... or a sense of personal space. He would usually waddle over and plop down in the middle of the gathering to listen in, and within a few minuets everyone would suddenly have someplace to be (thus saving Old Red the police duties). Yeah, life on my farm can get a bit turbulent at times, but there is a fine balance to it that keeps it teetering from one edge to another, and that is the best part about it. So where am I in this whole thing, you might wonder? Im in my favorite spot, of course... on the roof of the porch; where the sun shines all day long and the breeze blows perfectly. With such constant, careful conditions balanced I can find the time to get in some good grooming and some much needed rest. But never enough rest to miss the happenings going on down below. After all, it was from that very spot that I became the hero I am today. It was during the last fall season that it had happened... The Owners were away for the weekend and they had left just that afternoon. As was the case when they had to be away for any extended time, the goodly folk of the farm over the hill would tend to the yard and the residents, but they would not stay very long. The sun was just beginning to pass beyond the distant mountain range and night was fast approaching. As was the usual thing at this time, the hens had all retired to clucking in their house and the ducks were quacking up a conversation out on the pond, and I was just getting settled in to my spot. At that time of the year the cows are sometimes put out to graze and the tall ones must have forgotten to bring them back in to the barn. So as I began my grooming for the evening I noticed that they were still gathered around the watering trough, and that they did not seem to be very upset at having to stay out for the night. After all, the cold weather had not fully come down from the mountains yet. As I cleaned, it was not long before I noticed a suspicious movement out in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stopped and watched it slink in under the wooden cattle fence until it revealed its self while trying to cross the newly plowed field. A coyote, low and stealthy, slunk its way through the darkening gloom toward the edge of the drive way, then hunkered down in a bushel to get a better look at the seen. Fearful, I watched as two more forms emerged from the edge of the property and moved to take their places beside their hidden companion. “Hay!”, I called down to Old Red, as quietly as I could, but he was kicking his way through some distant dream and did not hear me enough to wake. The roof was quite a ways from the ground after all. Looking back to the prowling coyote I could see that they had picked a target for the evening, and were eying the milk cows as the ladies grazed their dinner. As quickly as I could, I ran down along the gutter to the water basin at the edge of the house and made my way a bit closer to the porch. “Hay, Red. Wake up”, I called once more, but got no more reaction than the first time I had tried. The coyote had moved to a position along the edge of the pond and the ducks had caught site of them just then. A cacophony of quacks erupted as they realized what was going on, and this got the hens all bothered too. Thankfully the raucous had been loud enough to wake the old hound dog, but the coyote were moving with purpose now and they would be near the ladies in a few moments. Old Red stirred to his feet and cast a grouchy look out to the ducks, but his eyes were so bad in the waning light that he barked a few curses and decided to nibble at flees. What could he really do anyways? There were three of them and only one “old” him. I had to do something... That was when I noticed Clarence lounging near the hay bales to the rear of the barn (where I could see the coyote would pass him very soon). But they did not see him; so still was his lazy slumber. At this time none of the hens had actually seen any of the strangers prowling, so they clucked in confusion, but did not raise an alarm. The ducks, on the other hand, had succumbed to instinct and took to flight as soon as they had seen the danger, so no one was any wiser to the coyote presence. As a cat, I too am a hunter, and I know well the thought process of the hunter. We like things to go smoothly, easy, and without confrontation (or with as little as possible). So seeing the stalking coyote gave me an idea. As quickly as I could I leaped in to action, running as fast as I could for the sleeping mound that was Clarence. It was a rotten way to wake someone, but it had to be done. With all my might I hurled myself into the air and came down on Clarences rear; digging in my claws and biting him hard on the thigh. Like a fire had been lit under him, that husky old pig leaped to his feet and cried out, running from his unknown attacker (me), and right toward the slinking coyote... causing them to fall all over themselves in sudden confusion. In a blind panic, Clarence didnt even notice them, so intent was he on his clawed attacker. This brought Old Red from the porch in a hollering rush; cursing and spitting and demanding what the fuss was all about. The whole eruption of events had proven too much for the coyote, and it didnt take Red hollering and chasing them to make them turn tail and run for it. Had they thought better of it, they could have probably made a meal of the old hound, but there was just too much going on for them to think straight. By the time the hens had put together what was going on and started their terrified clucking, the day had been saved. And thats how I became a hero. Simple, really (when you are a cat). A sharp eye and quick action can save the day every time, but it helps to be in the right spot too. Clarence does give me a weary breadth when I come down from the roof these days, but I think hell get over it eventually, and the cows no longer swat me with their tails when I sneak a few licks at the milk pail. Id say being a hero does have a few benefits, in the end. Though next time I think Ill just head straight for Clarence in stead of trying to wake Red.
Posted on: Sun, 09 Mar 2014 17:19:25 +0000
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