For much longer than I have been a McDonald, Bracken Ridge Ranch has mounted a very large star of Bethlehem in the lower pasture closest to the highway. It has been an annual tradition that dates back at least 40 years. This has become such an community involved tradition that if we are late in setting it up, passersby' s stop and ask us why it isn't up yet. So in order to save the stress of pressure from total strangers, we decided to put it up last night.
Mind you, this star is not small. It is about 10 feet from point to point and made of medium weight metal conduit configured to look like a big star. It is illuminated by approximately 50 large clear bulbs, and puts on quite a nice display that can be seen from the highway.
This year instead of mounting it its traditional place in the lower pasture we decided (actually I decided) it might be nice to put it on top of our livestock shed in the upper pasture. Given the season and all, I'm heretofore going to refer to the livestock shed as the "manger."
Now here's what happened: My husband and I wrestled the gigantic star from the barn where it was stored, and with much difficulty and grunting hoisted to the roof of the "manger." With the aid of a very long extension cord we plugged it in, and as you might suspect...most of the lights were burned out. We began twisting and fidgeting with them trying to make them work, but as we did so my husband, Bruce, noticed the wiring was beginning to deteriorate.
Not wanting to electrocute ourselves or burn the "manger" down, we (he) decided that I should go to town to purchase some new strands of traditional lights. For those of you who know Bruce, you most likely know he is somewhat of a perfectionist bordering on an OCD complex. He likes things to be "just right." So he composed a long list of items for me to pick up in town: This particular size, this particular length, this particular watt (what?)
Shopping wasn't that difficult. I quickly filled his order and returned home beaming with confidence and pride. When I pulled into the driveway I noted that he had the star all torn apart and was rebuilding it. To be helpful I unwound the strands of lights and laid them carefully in order on the ground.
It was getting dark and the ground was beginning to freeze making it difficult to work. Within minutes we were both holding flashlights between our teeth and frantically trying to attach the lights. Alas, it grew darker and darker. The challenge: can two very cold people, working on frozen ground in the dark, string semi-frozen strands of lights on a very cold metal star?
Not very well at all...but then I had a brilliant idea. Since about half of the lights were already back on the star, logic said that we should plug it in and use the light from them to work with.
Ahh, but somehow when logic comes from my lips it somehow becomes totally illogical and weird. None-the-less Bruce nodded his head in agreement so I slipped and slid across the yard to the outlet and plugged the lights in. Nothing happened. He yelled "Any time is fine!" (cold makes us all grumpy)
I hollered back that the lights were plugged in. In the darkness I heard him stand, take a few steps and slip on the frozen ground. It made an interesting swooshing/thud sound. He muttered something that I couldn't make out, but there are times when it isn't absolutely necessary to hear what someone else says under their breath, so I wisely didn't ask him to repeat it.
So there we were, 2 new strands of lights that came with a guarantee that if one light goes out the rest stay on. Apparently they lie. I had brought home not one, but two bad strands of lights. How could that be?
The next thing I knew I heard Bruce's heavy footfalls stomping on the frozen ground headed directly toward the outlet....and me. My mind whirled as I wondered if somehow I had plugged the strands in with the fat ground prong seated the wrong slot or I had done something equally as stupid.
Before I could check, he was there plugging and unplugging the strands in the socket. "We blew a fuse then!" he grumbled and stomped off toward the house. I was hot on his heels as we entered the dark house and he flipped the breaker switches up and down, up and down...nothing. He flipped the fuse box cover shut with such a sudden snap that it alerted my keen sense of perception to the fact that he was pretty darn upset and getting more so by the minute. "Must be the other fuse box." he grumbled.
"Right! the other fuse box!" I had forgotten there was a second box outside in the Tank House (someday I'll explain what the Tank House is and what it does, but be rest assured we do not keep military tanks in it.)
Once there he again flipped the breaker switches up and down several times with no results. "Well!" he said so loudly it nearly cracked my frozen face "I have no idea what we did, but we have NO power!" He brushed past me and stomped back to toward the "manger." I was once again hot on his heels, slipping and sliding on the frozen ground. Amazingly his feet gripped the ice with unbelievable precision! I felt like a rag -doll on ice!
Bruce yanked the strands of lights out of the socket and was once again mumbling things under his breath that I had no desire to hear. I glanced up toward the sky and silently sent a up a one word prayer.... "help."
Then in all its splendor there in the sky above me was the REAL star of Bethlehem. It was glorious and brilliant against the dark horizon. ...wait, the dark horizon? Immediately I knew something was not right.
I spun around so quickly I lost my already iffy footing and slid (although I might add, very gracefully) down a slight incline and ended up wedged against Bruce's boots. "umm" I said (very quietly) "Bruce, the power is out" He reached down to pull me to my feet and said "Right, now tell me something I don't know! I pointed across the highway and said "No..I mean the power is out.. everywhere...it's not just us, the whole neighborhoods power is out...look"
We had been so wrapped up in our own immediate problem that we hadn't notice the whole neighborhood was out of power. We learned later that a tree limb somewhere had fallen across the power lines and disrupted the power to about 7,000 homes.
He stared blankly at me for a few seconds and then we burst into a good laugh. After trudging back to the house, we started the generator and had a nice hot bowl of soup.
Tonight the infamous Star albeit over the " manger" will shine brightly...Oh star of wonder!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Skunked...Again
A lot of things have happened since my last entry. For one thing I no longer entertain the thought of becoming a professional skunk trapper. I'll admit when the UPS driver first delivered my Wiley Coyote Acme Beginners Trapping Kit I had ideas of becoming a world famous skunk trapper. That idea has since passed. I am now considering making my fortune by investing in the "Anti-Icky-Poo" odor removal business.
The Wiley Coyote Acme Trapping Kit was good, as far as it went. I soon realized however, it was to very elementary, so I invested in every type of trap, snare, net, and lure ever invented by man. I even researched the ancient Chinese methods of trapping as well as the early 1700's American Fur trappers methods. I bought, borrowed, and rented every mode of trap I could find. I had so many traps laying around that my husband, Bruce, was terrified to step outside for fear he'd wind up hanging upside down from a tree, or ensnared in a net. He needn't have worried. The traps set empty week after week.
I do have good news though. It is laced with a bit of bad news, but let's deal with the good news first. The good news is that I actually caught a skunk in one of the traps. The bad news is that it managed to get itself caught in one of those very large all wire havaheart traps. The kind, with the 1 inch welded wire mesh on all six sides. Whoever invented that trap had a sick sense of humor. It never occurred to me to question how one manages to remove a captured animal from the trap once it is in there.
As you can imagine the skunk was not happy with its predicament, but then neither was I happy with mine. I circled slowly around the cage at the distance of about 25 feet. With each cautious step the skunk stomped a warning with its front feet and then turned its back to me taking aim. There was no way I was going to get near the cage without getting doused.
Desperately looking for help I called the humane society and asked if they would come out and pick up the trap with the animal in it. That gave them quite a laugh. Apparently they only do mellow purring kitties and slurping kissing puppies. No skunks. I called my friends and neighbors and gave them all a good laugh as well. No one would come to my aid.
Someone suggested I use a large tarp as a shield as I moved toward the cage and when in close enough range, toss the tarp over the cage. I don't know why, but that sounded like a reasonable approach. If I ever remember who made that suggestion I have a few choice words for them. Actually, I'm not being fair. The idea was a good one, and it should have worked. Unfortunately here is what happened:
I thought the plan out carefully. Step one was to choose an old tarp, but not one so old that it had holes in it. (I am sure you can see my reasoning behind that decision.) Step two was to put on a long sleeved shirt (again my reasoning should be obvious.) Step three was to slip into my rubber boots, rain hat and gloves (same reasoning applies here.) I thought I was all set so off I went.
I hoisted the tarp up past my nose so that only my eyes , forehead and my hat was showing, and I moved cautiously one tiny step at a time toward the trapped skunk. At first it looked confused. Apparently it didn't recognize the big flat blue object moving toward it. I grinned behind my shield, this was going to be a piece of cake.
Step by step, inch by inch I closed the gap between us. Ever so cautiously I approached until I was almost within tossing distance. Just a couple more carefully planted steps. Soon I was within 4 feet of the cage. Maybe just one more step would do it. I didn't want the tarp to go askew when I tossed it and leave openings for the skunk to spray though.
Ahh, yes. At last, I was about 3 feet from the cage and all was well. The skunk had remained calm all this time, watching more out of curiosity than out of fear. It hadn't stomped a warning, and it hadn't turned its tail toward me. I just knew this would work! Thus far I hadn't considered what I would do once the tarp was over the cage, but that was something I could consider a bit later.
Carefully I extended the tarp out to arms length, the skunk gave a little bark and stomped. That was ok. I expected that.
What I didn't expect was the big gust of wind that suddenly came up behind me and blew the bottom of the tarp straight out toward the cage with a loud crackling flap, leaving me totally exposed.
Surely I don't need to go into the stinking details here. Skunks being skunks will do what skunks will do. Never have I felt such a close kinship to Wiley Coyote and Lucille Ball!
Oh, and in case you are feeling more sympathy for the skunk than for me...forget it. In the commotion the skunk managed to flip the cage over and set itself free. I on the other hand spend the day soaking in Anti-Icky-Poo!
The Wiley Coyote Acme Trapping Kit was good, as far as it went. I soon realized however, it was to very elementary, so I invested in every type of trap, snare, net, and lure ever invented by man. I even researched the ancient Chinese methods of trapping as well as the early 1700's American Fur trappers methods. I bought, borrowed, and rented every mode of trap I could find. I had so many traps laying around that my husband, Bruce, was terrified to step outside for fear he'd wind up hanging upside down from a tree, or ensnared in a net. He needn't have worried. The traps set empty week after week.
I do have good news though. It is laced with a bit of bad news, but let's deal with the good news first. The good news is that I actually caught a skunk in one of the traps. The bad news is that it managed to get itself caught in one of those very large all wire havaheart traps. The kind, with the 1 inch welded wire mesh on all six sides. Whoever invented that trap had a sick sense of humor. It never occurred to me to question how one manages to remove a captured animal from the trap once it is in there.
As you can imagine the skunk was not happy with its predicament, but then neither was I happy with mine. I circled slowly around the cage at the distance of about 25 feet. With each cautious step the skunk stomped a warning with its front feet and then turned its back to me taking aim. There was no way I was going to get near the cage without getting doused.
Desperately looking for help I called the humane society and asked if they would come out and pick up the trap with the animal in it. That gave them quite a laugh. Apparently they only do mellow purring kitties and slurping kissing puppies. No skunks. I called my friends and neighbors and gave them all a good laugh as well. No one would come to my aid.
Someone suggested I use a large tarp as a shield as I moved toward the cage and when in close enough range, toss the tarp over the cage. I don't know why, but that sounded like a reasonable approach. If I ever remember who made that suggestion I have a few choice words for them. Actually, I'm not being fair. The idea was a good one, and it should have worked. Unfortunately here is what happened:
I thought the plan out carefully. Step one was to choose an old tarp, but not one so old that it had holes in it. (I am sure you can see my reasoning behind that decision.) Step two was to put on a long sleeved shirt (again my reasoning should be obvious.) Step three was to slip into my rubber boots, rain hat and gloves (same reasoning applies here.) I thought I was all set so off I went.
I hoisted the tarp up past my nose so that only my eyes , forehead and my hat was showing, and I moved cautiously one tiny step at a time toward the trapped skunk. At first it looked confused. Apparently it didn't recognize the big flat blue object moving toward it. I grinned behind my shield, this was going to be a piece of cake.
Step by step, inch by inch I closed the gap between us. Ever so cautiously I approached until I was almost within tossing distance. Just a couple more carefully planted steps. Soon I was within 4 feet of the cage. Maybe just one more step would do it. I didn't want the tarp to go askew when I tossed it and leave openings for the skunk to spray though.
Ahh, yes. At last, I was about 3 feet from the cage and all was well. The skunk had remained calm all this time, watching more out of curiosity than out of fear. It hadn't stomped a warning, and it hadn't turned its tail toward me. I just knew this would work! Thus far I hadn't considered what I would do once the tarp was over the cage, but that was something I could consider a bit later.
Carefully I extended the tarp out to arms length, the skunk gave a little bark and stomped. That was ok. I expected that.
What I didn't expect was the big gust of wind that suddenly came up behind me and blew the bottom of the tarp straight out toward the cage with a loud crackling flap, leaving me totally exposed.
Surely I don't need to go into the stinking details here. Skunks being skunks will do what skunks will do. Never have I felt such a close kinship to Wiley Coyote and Lucille Ball!
Oh, and in case you are feeling more sympathy for the skunk than for me...forget it. In the commotion the skunk managed to flip the cage over and set itself free. I on the other hand spend the day soaking in Anti-Icky-Poo!
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