Friday Rambler

This morning I awoke to a host of red wing blackbirds on my front porch and walk. Now, THAT was fascinating. Imagine: having morning coffee while watching Wild Kingdom: Avian Week on your front porch.

What happened was last night/yesterday afternoon, we had lots of sleet and snow. I felt sorry for the birds before sundown, so I threw out some birdseed from the comfort of my front door, and it flew as far as my porch and front walk.

How do birds "know" about this birdseed, anyway?! How did these wild redwing blackbirds "know" to show up on my front porch? They NEVER do that. Huh.

This afternoon, REAL work done and the housework neglected, (that Spouse o' Mine is out of town...can you tell?), I grabbed my XC skis and poles and merrily shouted to the Bouvier Biserka: "Pasture!" and off we went for a couple of hours of snow frolic. But...

No sooner had I made my way out to the pasture, but I spied flashing lights on a big ol' pickup. In my yard. The sheriff. Oh, no, oh, no, that could not be good at all. Oh, no...

I flew out of the pasture (sans skis, but still holding my ski poles, I do not know why), and ran to the front yard where the sheriff was standing. My face felt like frozen stone. WHAT?!!!

He yelled at me. Yelled at me!! "Get in the house!"

I yelled for Bouvier Biserka, "Biserka, 's'go, Biserka, 's'go!" She was charging the sheriff against the fence. Right behavior, wrong guy. She turned and obeyed me and came in with me.

What was going on?!

The sheriff pulled his gun/rifle thing out and slung it over his shoulder. Whatever was "going down", this man was serious business. He had binoculars and kept talking into his shirt collar.

I called a neighbor, who knew nothing. I paced. I watched. I paced. This is rural Kansas, for Pete's sake. Sheriffs are not supposed to command me to "Get in the house!"

Over an half hour later, I got a call from a rancher neighbor: apparently a derelict had "gone crazy" and forced a police stand-off. I know nothing more than that. We know the guy, he has seemed harmless in the past, but apparently there was something that prodded a police force in our tiny neck of the Flint Hills.

I miss my big old Bear. He was good in situations like this. I had nothing to fear with him around.

And so my weekend begins. Fun snow. Nutty neighbors.

Meh...