A Magnificent Research Tool

Farmer H took Goatrude out of her pen for a walk the other night. He put her on a dog leash. Uh huh. He also informed us last week that "Goats are herd animals, and like company." DUH! Where has he been all his life? Who doesn't know that goats are herd animals? Farmer H had to find that out on the internet during working hours. Today, he put Goatrude on a clothesline between the Mansion and the well head. In a choke collar. Poor ol' Gertrude stretched herself over to my rosebush by the front porch, and munched away. I objected. "Even the thorns don't keep her from eating my roses!" Farmer H said, "Oh, they LIKE the thorns." Like that was a goatly delicacy. He probably learned that on the internet at work. Goatrude began making growling noises in her throat. "What's she doing?" Nothing gets past Farmer H. "She's choking. Because of the choke collar. She'll choke a minute, then she'll back off. That's what a choke collar does." Like everybody doesn't know that. Once Goatrude started eating Farmer H's yucca plant, he took her off the clothesline and moved her nearer the woods and the swingin' rooster bachelor pad. He left her there, and went to his BARn with The Pony. That's a whole other story. Goatrude bleated longingly for her master, then proceeded to hang herself on her choke collar. I had to send the #1 son to straighen her out. He detests those animals. He used to be an animal lover, but Farmer H soured him on that real quick with the animal chores.

Spot the bunny is gone. Go figure! That's what happens when you put a buck in a pen with a dirt floor. He tunneled out faster than those Stalag 17 dudes. Farmer H pretends that Spot is just down in a deep burrow, because "I poked a stick two feet down there, and I still couldn't touch the end of it. There are no holes showing he got outside the fence." DUH! Like Spot is going to tunnel up right next to the fence for the searchlights to catch him and alert the guard in the tower. Something tells me that Spot is no longer with us, what with that pesky beagle wailing all night and day. At least we haven't found Spot's carcass in the front yard yet.

Speaking of the front yard...The Pony went to shoot a little compound bow that Farmer H bought at the auction last night. He was in front of the Mansion, shooting across the yard at a tall cardboard box. One arrow missed, and The Pony could not find it. Farmer H told him to shoot another one like that, and see where it went. Farmer H saw it land. He and The Pony went to pick up the second arrow, and couldn't find it. The Pony balked at shooting a third arrow to help find the others. Can't fool that boy twice. Shame on you. Anyhoo... Farmer H and The Pony spent 30 minutes in the front yard searching for that arrow. I told them the area where I saw it land. They didn't want to search there. They were way out by the driveway. Then they gave up and Farmer H yelled at The Pony for being sour and not wanting to do anything. The Pony, having happily shot his arrows until Farmer H butted in, packed all his stuff to The Barn and went in the Mansion.

I found the arrows after The Pony had some breakfast. Men just can't find their own butts unless the let out a big fart. Here's the deal. If The Pony was shooting the arrows in this ----- direction, wouldn't it make sense to search in this | direction? Because an arrow is, perhaps, a quarter inch wide, and walking parallel to the arrow gives you a slim chance of finding it. Whereas an arrow is about three feet long, and if you walk perpendicular to the arrow, you have better odds. You also have better odds if you take off your shoes and socks, because an arrow likes to bury itself in that brown undergrass like a missile in an ocean of jello. Especially if that arrow is black or brown, with green feathers. Yep. Mrs. HM found those two arrows, which made The Pony happy, but merely made Farmer H say, "Huh."

If only Farmer H had searched the internet for ways to find arrows in the front yard, he could have saved me the trouble.