0600 Hours

On a day that was supposed to be R & R for me and my team turned out to be our most crucial mission yet. At 0600 hours I went in first, to survey the scene, confident that I would have time to secure my position and call for back up if necessary. “If necessary” became “when necessary,” and I quickly backed out of the strike zone long enough to signal the team lead and one of the less senior members. Both had been fierce allies before and I would have let either of them cover me in any situation. However, today, the junior member didn’t seem to have his head in the game and I had trouble getting him to truly focus on the plan of action. No doubt he’d perform, but this would cause for some reflection later. My only concern now was to diffuse the situation before us at this moment.

I went back into position where I could possibly incite confusion and movement of the enemy toward my teammates. At about this time I was also wondering why it was my turn to call shots and be primary. We do all take turns: it keeps us all aware and on the same level, mentally.

One more strategic move and I had the enemy up and on their feet. My team lead sprang into action and was able to connect and capture the leader of the opposing force. Once I was able to confirm that I looked for my other team member and I found him looking in a different direction. Because of his inattention, another rival was able to retreat to higher ground. Even after signaling to my teammate as to where our opponent went, he still wouldn’t engage.

We were all able to meet up at the usual spot after the fight was over, just in time for the fourth member of our team to catch up to us after finishing a perimeter search.

Now…..

Those of you who used to receive these updates from me while Mr. H and I were living in Arizona, would actually have a very different picture of what was just described.  The story above would pretty much have been just what it sounded like—on some days.  But, today— in the land of cheese and honey— here’s what really happened:

Around 6 a.m. I went out to the barn to feed the animals. As usual, I was greeted by Puddin’ (junior team member), Pork Chop (team lead), and Pot Pie (4^th team member—and the real team lead).  After feeding everyone I went back into the tack room (where feed, first aid and buckets are stored), and surveyed the area: it was covered in mouse poop as it had been since the weather got cold. I was so disgusted with this; the cats have killed every mouse and any other animal in their paths since they were old enough to climb. The tack room is virtually impossible to get in though: well, Pot Pie got stuck in a small area between the ceiling and a wall once, but she had to climb up and back out through the garage. The tack room, for all intents and purposes, is inaccessible to the little killing machines.

I started pulling shelves and bins out of the tiny room in order to decontaminate it. As I pulled on an open 20-pound bag of wood shavings, I saw a HUGE mouse (leader of the opposing force) jump around in there. Those wood shavings are supposed to be clean! They’re bedding for baby animals.

I’m standing there in the early morning hours, 23 degrees out with snow on the ground, in Carhartt overalls with matching hat—of course— and work gloves. I mean, I really look like I might actually know something about hard work and farming in this get up. A tough chick who can wrestle any goat and lasso the llama.

However, upon first glance of that big ass mouse, I jumped back and gasped like a 40’s movie starlet grabbing her pearls. Mice always do that to me! I called for the cats who weren’t far away. Porky and Puddin’ were nearby and I dangled Porky over the wood shaving bag in order for him to pick up the rodent scent. I set him down and made sure Puddin’ was in the vicinity and then I inched that big wood shaving bag out of the tack room with a broom. I couldn’t keep pulling on it with my hand—I was afraid the mouse would hop out and run down or – gasp – UP my arm.

I got the shaving out to the barn aisle and tipped the bag over. Two huge mice fell out and ran: the largest of which Pork Chop dove for and instantly subdued. Puddin’ was inattentively looking at some shiny object that had grabbed his attention and totally missed the second mouse, who climbed up and over one of the stalls. I was furious that we didn’t get two for two, but, very happy that Pork Chop didn’t disappoint. Puddin’ is now on probation: I knew those three weeks in the house would decondition that little pansy.

I then proceeded to sing and clap, “Porky, Porky, he’s our man; if he can’t do it, nobody can,” and went back to decontaminating the tack room.

Three hours later, I’m now heading to town to get mouse traps and plastic containers with lids to keep everything in so that I’m not wiping mouse poop off fly spray bottles and goat hoof trimmers…

 

The Seal team circa July: basic training