Seriously, not required. Boring does not reside at the farm.
I would like to meet boring and spend a couple days basking in its company. Apparently not in my Tarot cards for this century.
Easter Sunday, I'm clearing culverts on the property and Dax chases a buck into the swamp. Both of them are squalloring, up to their necks in muck, quite stuck.
I wade out into the swamp and pull the buck out of the goo, then pluck Dax out. Meanwhile, the other three dogs watch from shore. The disoriented deer staggers right up to them. Garrett, the meek one, lunges for him. The buck splashes back into the water and starts to swim across the pond -- Garrett literally in tow, he's latched on and won't let go.
Nice day for a swim, I say. My hand grabs Garrett's nubby tail and I reel them both back in. The struggle continues and I'm now 'negotiating' with Garrett to let go of the buck's head. I win, the buck will look like a unicorn this Fall, but he'll live.
Smug bugger.
Air temperature at midnight is 80'F... oh so appropriate for middle of the night tornadoes.
We hunker down in the barn and wait.
I keep one eye on the radar.
And another on the nervous horses. The lightning is ground shaking.
By 3 AM, the worst has passed and I get a couple hours of sleep..
