I have to thank the mechanical genius of Tired Iron Farm who put some sort of voodoo on that tractor last year, and Stabil, a gasoline additive that casts out evil spirits from the carburetor. The tractor was parked in my wonderful new garage this winter, safe from the evil vermin that love to eat wiring. O, happy day! O, happy day!
If you recall, I wrote in this very blog about whangdoodles possibly hanging around my barn. On my way to visit the horses in the dark, I heard a strange, organic noise that I was hoping came from my horses, even though I have never heard a horse make such a sound. Oh, but on this very bright and beautiful spring morn, that mystery has been solved! I stepped onto the back porch hoping to locate a very vocal song bird singing to his heart's content. When I moved closer to the screens, I heard that exact whangdoodle noise, but this time in the fine bright yellow light of day. The creature that produces that noise is none other than the white tailed deer. She leapt into the middle of Spiritcreek, and ran toward the east. I must have scared her by being on the porch this time of day. And I thought whangdoodles made that noise...
In my defense as a lifelong Kansan, deer had been effectively extirpated in Kansas by the time I was born. I had no early natural exposure to deer as a child. I did not learn deer lore from my family of rugged hunters and outdoorsmen because they were busy extirpating other species.
The first deer I saw in the wild was in Smith County, the summer of my eighth grade in school. A classmate asked me to meet him at dawn to walk out to the Old Lake, a little swamp about a mile east of town. In the quiet of a dew drenched summer dawn, we saw two deer that seemed as amazed to see us as we were to see them. It seemed magical to me at the time. Now, all these decades later, deer are still amazing me.
(Read first mention of whangdoodles here.)
|You can discern the deer trail on the far bank.|