Coon #5

 I was Dead! Dead! Dead! asleep at 1:30 AM when Stan decided to wake me up saying "Get the gun we've got another coon in the back yard." Max had treed it and was going crazy, it was 30 degrees and there I am standing in my nightie and slippers in the back yard with a rifle. It would be so much simpler if the dog would just keep the coons totally out of the yard, but noooo, he thinks it's great sport to let them sneak through the fence and then he trees them using his nasty, vicious junk yard dog attitude to keep them in the tree until he wakes us up to come see what the problem is . He is so funny, as soon as we go out to see what's up he turns into a wiggly silly puppy again totally overjoyed at what he's done. I dispatched the coon with a head-shot, Stan hauled the carcass out by the hay barn and I'll go bury it today. Stan left at 3:AM for the airport to fly to NM. I want to thank my dog for the added chore, because he will lay sleeping in the sun while I'm digging the hole. Oh well, at least the coon didn't get the little Banty hen that's setting on a nest of eggs under a shrub in the back yard. And why is it that hen has a perfectly good hen house with cozy nest boxes and instead she's hiding under a bush tempting fate? Farm Life