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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Gauguin who wrote (39387)	10/7/1999 7:35:00 PM
From: Crocodile	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

Ah.. burros... donkeys... mules.... real "Jaws of Death" creatures... And people say we crocodiles are bad... Something funny came to mind tonight while I was doing the chores... I think I have time to tap it out while my dinner cooks... but Part 3 of the Wrecking Yard Story has to simmer a little longer... At one time, I had quite a sizable herd of dairy goats... Now we're not talking scroungy looking scrub goats, but sleek, well-bred, well-fed animals... Well-behaved, gentle and good... (well at least it "seemed" that way to us). Now, our fields are surrounded by 5 strand electric fencing.. good stuff... with enough power to knock you on your keester if you happen to be too careless around it. All of the animals have great respect for that fence and rarely test its effects... or at least we thought so. Well, some while back, we had a fearless herd leader... a Grand Old Dame of the goat herd... We had owned her since she was knee-high to a grasshopper and by this time, she was more than a dozen years old... Probably the equivalent of a 110 year old woman... But she was quick and tough and could still butt heads and hold her own against the toughest of the younger does...and so she reigned supreme for many summers. Now, on the day in question, Mr. Croc and I had arrived home and proceeded to the barn to do the evening milking. But instead of being greeted by a couple of dozen joyful caprines, the barn was silent and empty. This was definitely NOT GOOD... We walked around the back of the barn... nada... We checked the fields... and nada... We began to walk along the fenceline... and there...there beneath a big White Ash, lay a large tree limb... across the dependable 5-strand fence... pressing it down onto the earth...creating a portal to transport adventurous goats to another universe... One where they could transgress the borders of our farm and move on out "TO WHERE NO GOAT HAD GONE BEFORE"... Out into the neighbour's fields and forests... We looked at each other... shocked and horrified to think of what this could mean. Quickly we looked for the telltale "signs of passage" which goats leave when wandering through the fields... Yes... they had stopped at the massive stand of wild raspberry canes along the fence row... And now... where a patch perhaps 20 by 60 feet had been... all that remained were the splintered shreds of a few canes... but still the path led on.... The flattened trail of grass led through the creek to a poplar tree on our own property...or at least...what had once BEEN a poplar tree, but which was now just a mere whip... a flagpole denuded of branches and leaves... but still the path led on.... Now the trail turned and went past a large stand of pines... but these proved too tall for easy munching... and so the path led on... With heavy hearts we knew where this trail led... Out, out across the fields of alfalfa... under our neighbour's pathetic page-wire fence to which any goat worth its salt would turn up its nose in mockery... Under this fence and into the plantation of Christmas trees... Off, off into the trees went the sleek, wiley, well-bred goats... We contemplated our options. Should we cross the fence and stealthily search for our goats among the (now) overly-well-pruned Tannenbaums... Or should we stand within the shelter of the tall pines on the near side of the fence and make coaxing cries promising grain and other treats for any goat that would squeeze back under the fence to allied soil...?? Before we could come to any concrete decision, the matter was taken entirely out of our hands... Off in the distance were heard the fearsome cries of some hideous banshee... shrieking and cursing at the top of its lungs as it flew across the fields of sweetly scented balsams and pines... "Goddammitttttt!!! Goddamned $&^@$£@ goats!!! When I Get you sons of b****** you'll be sorry!!!!!". Well, I probably don't have to tell you that Mr. Croc and I didn't have to think for more than about 2 seconds to decide what to do. With great haste, we beat a path to the shelter of the big pines and dived down the creek bank to hide in the bullrushes... If we've learned one or two things over the years, it's to NEVER NEVER come between an angry man and a herd of wayward goats... The best plan is to just lay low and let things play out as they were meant too... Now, from our vantage point,...cringing behind the bullrushes, we had a very good view of what transpired. Outdistancing the hateful screams of the jolly Chistmas tree farmer, the brave old matron of the heard lead a charge through the pines and beneath the fence and back onto allied terra firma. But being smart, she knew that the chase was not over just yet... For just as she and her mob had effortlessly slipped under the wussy wire fence... so too could the screaming meany who was hot on their tails... I can still see it all in my mind's eye... 20-odd sleek deer-coloured Toggenburgs... galloping across the alfalfa fields... udders filled with milk swaying as if in slow motion... All at once, my eyes felt slightly teary as the theme music from Chariots of Fire welled up within my chest... It was all I could do to keep my head down and not raise my fist into the air...shaking it while cheering... "GO GOATS GO!!!! RUN LIKE THE WIND!!!!" Instead, I just ducked down and peered toward enemy territory to see what would happen next. There... there at the fence... smacking his fist against his hand, stood the angry man... He knew he had been beaten... By now he could see that the goats were far and away and rounding the pine forest... now in the homestretch... galloping for home. He knew he was beat... no captured goat to fling before us to prove their guilt... not even a goat tail, or an ear... nothing to wave about as evidence... Just his word against ours... (and we weren't talking...).... Soon he retreated back into his trees... as we crept off in the opposite direction... soon arriving in the barn to be greeted by 20+ joyful goats standing at the milkroom door... giving us the old "Where have you been??!! What took you so long??!!" look.... Yes...what indeed... (Now off for supper and back with the W.Y.S. - Part 3 after a bit...)

To: Gauguin who wrote (39387)	10/7/1999 7:44:00 PM
From: Gauguin	Respond to of 71178

Well, spouse is home, and she confirms the burro story, except that it was in Nevada, and that she told me to "Hit the burro," and I was afraid to. Oh sure, I'm going to hit that toothy monster hard on the nose. And that he was biting the window so hard, that it was making scratching noises, like sand on metal (she demo-s for me on the upstairs window) and he was definitely trying to break the window out, "With a plan. He had a plan." Oh ~ she also said the sign says, Don't Stop* To Feed The Burros.* Oh, and that the reason "we" stopped, was because a Tour Bus in front of us had already stopped. And that I was taking a new prescription, and was "a zombie." Which is kind of fitting, when I think about it.