pointing it out to you!!! the waiting game

It’s that time of year again. The mad rush is just about over. We have fought and won or fought and lost (not just in the pit, on the yard as well), we have bred our birds, and we are watching them grow. We have culled a few and raised a few. We have suffered the long cold winter, we have battled our birds’ natural enemies for them, we have fed and watered for a year to get back to this point of the game where we wait.

We wait to see what survives, we wait to see what glorious new enemies will emerge from congress and the legislature, because we all know that’s the real enemy. We wait to see who’s getting out, and who’s getting back in. We wait.

We really don’t have a lot of control over this time of the year. we sweat as we drag the water hose from pen to pen and barrel to barrel. We watch to see these birds as they get more and more ragged as the weeks drag on. We stand guard as the varmints look to use our stock as an all-night buffet to their young. It’s a lonely business but it is all part of the process.

I was rarely alone at my farm, we had too much going on, but I remember one Labor Day Weekend. I found myself alone at the farm, the girl that worked for me took the boys to the beach, F B was at a convention, and Jerry had gone to visit his momma. I went about my chores, walking the line of pens that surrounded my property to make sure that all was secure and that nothing was out of the ordinary, before I left for the day. I was invited to a neighbor’s house for a barbeque to celebrate the holiday and I was rushing to make sure that all was secure. All the hens were running loose, followed by their broods. I looked them over carefully to make sure that there were no signs of wet pox, as this was my biggest concern during these “Dog Days” of summer.

The grass had just been cut so there was a sweet smell in the air. I passed by a pen and out of the corner of my eye, I see a hen had gone to brood in one of the abandoned pens. It was my habit to break up any pens this late in the season and I stepped into the pen. About this same time, I see the largest rat snake in the history of rat snakes crawling through the wire. I froze. I’m not particularly afraid of snakes, but I was startled. I backed out of the pen to go get my shotgun. I had to protect my hen, and what’s a girl to do when she’s all alone but what she needs to do.

Now I can assure you that I am not a good shot and could probably count the times on one hand that I have ever fired a gun, but it was my responsibility, so I grabbed the gun and walked outside to the pen. I took careful aim and fired at this mother of all snakes and shot the offending creature, unfortunately I also killed the hen and blew a hole in the pen the size of Dallas. When I say this thing exploded, I can assure you i was covered in hen and snake guts. I was cursing pretty loudly as I went to get a shovel to remove any trace of my giant SNAFU in the pen. I got the shovel and went to scrape up the remains of my hen and the snake. I went to throw the remains over the pen into the woods on the other side and right about that time, I realized I’d hit a banana spiders web. For those of you that are not familiar with the banana spiders that inhabit South Louisiana, I can tell you these suckers are huge and quite aggressive. While I’m not afraid of an identifiable snake, I am terrified of the tiniest spider. I mean really terrified. I look down at the handle as this spider the size of my hand comes down the handle towards me. I go one way the blood and guts go another and the spider goes another. I must have screamed because all of a sudden, I hear laughter, and I don’t mean a gentle ha-ha. I look behind me and there stands C. J. Breaux (Cajun Kid) and he is about to piss himself laughing. He had pulled up while I was occupied and didn’t see him arrive.

I had made arrangements to have him come by so I could follow him to the barbeque, and I was obviously quite embarrassed and quite disheveled in my appearance. He had witnessed my entire humiliation, and this guy could hardly catch his breath as he wheezed with laughter. I stomped up to the house to change clothes and get cleaned up. I come out and C. J. had cleaned up my mess and every time he looked over at me he snickered. He asked where everyone was, and I gave him a brief answer. I knew he would tell everyone of my hijinks while alone at the farm while at the barbeque so I was second-guessing whether to attend or not. He never told a soul to my knowledge. I respected him for that.

As for me, I made sure that I was never in that situation again, either one of my boys or Jerry was there to ensure that I did the part of my job that I’m secure in and left the protection of my stock to the ones that didn’t more damage trying to protect them in the first place.

The wait is difficult, but it is also a time to reflect, it is a gentle reprieve before the madness descends on us again. It is a time for family and friends, It is a time for mini-vacations. It is a time for barbeques. The waiting game isn’t so hard, it’s just another opportunity to improve and learn where you stand in the grand scheme of things. Keep em Crowing