Cole's Bucket List

What would Cole's bucket list look like?

Anything to do with hunting, duh.
He was born at McAlister Kennels and through Cole, the McAlisters and I have built a decade long friendship.  
Cole has been my squirrel, goose, duck and rabbit hunting buddy.  He asks that we not forget the deer he helped get too.  But, quail, never.  His mom, pops, siblings... all log many hours quail hunting.  Time to check that off his list.

All aboard Monday morning for Cole's first quail hunt.  David McAlister went through the trouble of crossing the county to procure a dozen quail to put on a hunt for Cole alone.
Traditionally, the quail are placed in hiding among tall grasses.  The hunt master being the only one who knows where all the bird are set.  Then the hunter and his dog go about finding them.
Tradition flew out the window with the covey of quail from their holding box overnight. David was distraught.  I thought it was hysterical that a dozen quail were waiting for Cole and I in his front yard, huddled under a camellia bush.

A new plan was hatched: Cole would flush them out into the nearby field.

The birds had their own plans to fly higher and further than your average quail.  A dozen overachievers.  I'm glad Miss Susan wasn't home to see the shooting start in her backyard.  
Within minutes, we had a bona fide mystery on our hands:  where did they go???

Over yonder?

Over hill.

Over dale.
One by one, the quails' scent gave them away to the Great Colemiester.

He was in sensory overload mode, loving every minute of it.  Cole was finding them in the most unusual places:

He wedged his 70 lb self into 6 inches of crawlspace. 

He is my genius. His nose was right and he was relentless.

I shot one, David another, but Cole wished for us to save our ammo, by nabbing three on his own.

Unbeknownst to all of us, a bird was hiding in the garage.  I was in the loo adjoining the garage when I heard the C-bomb hit.  Cole tore the place up, knocked plants over to get his bird. I'd just finished picking up the debris field when he tore back in for the second bird hiding in the Boston fern.  Miss Susan, sorry for the wake of destruction.  If it's any consolation, he had an absolute blast.

For supper that day, we all shared in quail with mustard and white wine sauce.

Old King Cole preparing to feast.

Huge thanks to David for the adventure and it's delicious aftermath.

Memories made and cherished.

Good Ideas Better Left Alone

Everyone has horrid sweaters in the back of their closets.  What if you could repurpose them?  
What if...

...you could make mittens out of dated, horrible knit hoodies?

Abracadabra!

I wonder what else I can carve up in my closet?
Reminds me of the time a well meaning grandmother gave her 11 year old granddaughter a fur coat to try to bring some style into her life.  What I saw was an opportunity to keep my hands from freezing when I was driving my snowmobile.

I made them so large to allow a mitted hand to fit inside.  They were the most wonderful thing for long rides.  I hear that now the modern snowmobiles have warming handlebars.  Still, I shall not relinquish my 34 year old mittens, I may need them for mushing in Alaska someday.

Ready, Set, Fire

Farm Project #739.  Building a solid rifle target backdrop.

Any day outside is better than a day inside... if you have snazzy rain pants.  

The first 6 RR ties got the best of me, until I remembered how I move heavy furniture around:  rollers.  And the tractor helped.  
Inmate Smith, guilty as charged.

Old Man Winter

A Canadian Winter, that's my favorite season.  It doesn't translate in Alabama.  We don't get blanketed by 2' of snow, more like 2' of rain.  Pure drudgery, only if you let it...
Instead of gripping about having to spend Friday and Saturday nights sleeping in the barn to watch over the horses, I cater a big meal for the picnic at the barn.

It can be hard to sleep when one of your 14 bunkmates likes to kick his stall door, aside from that, it's magic to have all your best friends under one roof.

It's not a chore to put the blankets on the horses, if you turn it into a fashion parade.

Henry, in a chic little Schneider one piece.  Work it, baby.

Axel, throwing a profile after sashaying down the aisle.

Angus, our plus size model, sports a handsome Weatherbeeta jacket that's worth more that all my jackets combined... because he's worth it, darling.
I don't hoard much, but I do have an armoire full of horse jackets, all dating back to my draft horse rescue days.

"Does this make my butt look fat?"

So what if a Paint looks lost in a Clydesdale's clothes?

Here's Cody, the impetus for the ruling that all the horses were staying in the barn overnight.  I found him Friday (around quitting time, when else do they get sick?) trembling violently.  
No one goes down without a fight on my watch-- not even my fig trees.

See, it's fun to build teepees at a windchill of 18'F!  Well, that's even a stretch for me. 
Herding a neighbor's stray horse for hours isn't a joy either, but we're calling that one "getting my cardio for the day".  

Seek out the positive, even if you have to make it up!  
Good attitude helps if you dress appropriately.  NYC, Paris, Milan runways, look out:

Insulated bib overalls, Carhartt jacket,favorite scarf that looks like a dead calico, and the piece de resistance: Ontario Hydro lineman gloves.  Don't hate me because I know how to stay warm.
Saturday morning, we explorers discovered ice stalagmites rising from the ground.

Looks like Don King's hair.

In spite of all the preparations, one set of pipes burst... that's curmudgeon talk.

Thanks to all the prep, I only had to rebuild one line on Sunday afternoon.  AND we had all the parts in the shop, we have one of every size reducer bushing because that's the way we roll!  😎

So much crammed into our 40 hour weekend, that me and the boys are soaking in some R&R tonight.

No one is answering my call to room service for hot cacao, I wonder why?

Educating A Farm Car

Binky's first day at work.

A vehicle that provides me with work, or the ability to escape from it, deserves a name.  
Today, my SUV discovered what it is to be a farm girl.

Driving the trails to shuttle between jobs. 
 I need to take an evening to read my tome of an owner's manual.  How does one override the sensors?  Binky is equipped with corner radars that squawk when dangerously close objects are detected.  Narrow trails send her whistling into epileptic seizures.   
Believe me, we're safest on the trails.  She found out a 5 mile excursion to our equine vet's house can be an adventure.  
What do you do when you drive past a 16ft section of busted down fencing that's supposed to hold back 100 head of cattle?
1.  We go looking for the escapees.  Found one 300 yards up the road.
2.  Contact farmer.  Was not home, but gave me code to open main driveway gates.
3.  Round up said fugitive.  Which was not a cow or a steer, but a rather surly bull.
I left my red SUV blocking the county road at one end, then I made my way to a point beyond the bull and started pushing him towards my car by shaking a plastic grocery bag.  

No good pictures of the cattle drive because my subject was unruly and unpredictable, pretending to be going in the proper direction only to turn about and come back towards me.  
If Binky hadn't been so terrified, I'm sure she'd activated her horn, head lights, whistles!  Trial by fire on the first day.

On the cusp of getting him through the gates.
Not yet equipped with an emergency tool box, we had to resort to using old dog leashes to piece the fence back together:

Day 1, exposed to mud, paint cans, shovels, roots and rocks, and a bull... all without a ding.  A+ for the Binkster!

Fasten Thine Seat Belts

Frivolities on my day off were cut short Monday when severe weather threatened. I packed up the dogs, our picnic and pyjamas.

... and established squatters rights in the barn office.

My policy is:  horses are kept in stalls during lightning storms, but someone has to stay with them to cut them loose if a tornado warning is issued.

This is why: 1000 lbs with steel on their feet standing in saturated field under trees, is not a winning combination in Alabama.

While Cole and Pete hogged the bed, Garrett and I kept the horses calm.

Garrett has become an invaluable helper.
This lasted from 5 to past 10 PM.

Cute little red triangle is tornadic vortex signature, in other words, hold your breath and hope it veers left.  
After two days of rain filling my wheelbarrow,

we didn't require a refill.

Mother Nature delivered more and more.
By 11 PM, the worst was over and the horses were cut loose, so Cole and I started making our rounds.  Nothing like crawling around in your PJ's toweling up mud that flooded into a house, I didn't even bother with the garage, it was still rising!

Turns out the garage was the least of our worries.  Getting to the other flooded areas was perplexing because the farm roads were impassable.  
By midnight, I'd swapped to a 4x4 utility vehicle.  I kept Cole out way past his bedtime.

Tuesday was my other day off this week and it was Cole's cancer restaging at Auburn University Vet School. Pete went his separate way for a full day at physio camp. 

Observing that his two older brothers were away, Garrett hatched a plan.
We went to the car dealership to inquire about roof racks and a cargo box for my subcompact.  Even with the seats removed, it's not comfortable for myself and three big dogs.  I had to face the truth:  I'm not a single parent to an only child anymore.  We're a foursome now.  We'd outgrown the small car and while she still held her value, Garrett decided we needed some growing room.

He proved to be tenacious in negotiations.  I'm plain belligerent and refuse to even walk out onto the lot and look at a car until the figures are agreeable.  Garrett and I wore him down.

I wanted to trade for a used vehicle, color wasn't an issue, and it don't impress us if it has back up cameras.  The most affordable one was the only one test driven, and we drove it off the lot.  
Garrett is mighty pleased with his new wheels.

Mild mannered back seat driver:

Hyundai Santa Fe seated 7, until I attacked it with my wrench set this evening.  
The fruit of a couple of hours of labor:

My conversion is far superior to factory; seats 2 humans and up to 5 dogs.  Seats, cargo bins, stripped down to the carpet and cushion bedding put in.

Later in the evening, Cole's oncologist called with his staging results:  liver and spleen cancer growth slowed down.  Looks like The Kid has been granted 2 more months of good life.  

On next week's day off, we're putting our best jackets on and taking a day trip to Massee Camellia Gardens in Georgia.

Life, it's the only game in town.