I’d just settled in for my afternoon nap when the phone rang. Sheeze!
Radio announcer voice explained he was Dan Somebody-or-Other with the Police Benevolent Association fund raising.
“This number’s on the no-call list. It’s illegal for you to call here. Same as if you’re giving me a ticket for five miles over the speed limit.”
“Uh…”
“I paid a $35 fine for a burned-out license-tag bulb last time I had any dealings with your kind. Think of that as my contribution.”
Spang hung up on me just when I was getting warmed up to ask to see his license and proof of insurance.
Meanwhile, went up atop the hill with my spyglass. Counted 14 buzzards circling around the ranch house for the 4000-plus acre ranch half-a-mile to the north. Widow lives there alone, but maybe she had grandkids visiting killed something last night. The buzzards are swooping but not landing, maybe skittish because it’s so close to the house and barn.
No buzzards circling over toward Gale’s, the new neighbor’s place, or the CopShop Party Hunting Cabin. Only other buzzards swooping are probably checking out a coon that was on the front porch a couple of nights ago, tore half-an-ear off the invader cat. I shot it through the window screen during a pause in the action and it flopped some, dropped a lot of blood on the porch.
But by the time I got my shoes on and went outdoors it was gone. Looked around all over from hell-to-breakfast for it next day, but couldn’t locate it.
Buzzards think it’s under a clump of dead cedar 100 yards from the cabin. Glad it didn’t die on the porch and dump all those fleas for the cats.
Built a humongous rock and brush dam I’m hoping will prove to function as though a beaver built it. I’m a firm believer the only reason a beaver dam holds water is because nobody ever told it science don’t allow beaver dams to hold water.
Old Jules
So Far From Heaven 