Karen wanted it out of the little pond in our courtyard...that's going to get filled in - after I jackhammer a drainage hole in the bottom...and we're going to put a pool in front of that area - but still within the courtyard.
So Jack and Jill, engaged in a questionable water activity, had to go...to the front yard, apparently.
In the heat of the day on Saturday...
|...ok, it's in the direct sunlight, but it was still pretty hot...|
This happens 4x per day, at 6 am, 10 am, 2 pm and 6 pm. The turkeys were pelted at precisely 2 pm on Saturday afternoon...they squawked appropriately and turkey trotted their feathered behinds out of there.
You do NOT want to be standing next to the deer feeder when it unloads; this I know from experience.
Right after I got it set up I decided I should test it out, so I knelt down and pressed the "test" button.
I noticed it started a countdown...10...9...8...
Around about 5 it occurred to me that maybe they gave you time to back up a bit so you didn't get deer feed dropped on your toes...so I backed up a few steps.
3...2...1...and then my deer feeder turned assault weapon commenced firing hard dried kernels of corn at me, pinging them off my arms, legs, noggin, etc.
Naturally I engaged in a dignified if somewhat hasty retreat ("what the...? ouch! holy crap! OUCH!") but had to put almost 20 yards between me and the loaded weapon to get out of bruise missile range.
If any deer are peacefully feeding when that thing launches they're going to be in for a surprise.
"Honey? Why are there unconscious deer lying in our yard?"
Bumped into an old acquaintance while golfing today...
That, plus the fact I forgot my bag stand / walking stick, left me a little flustered...hated to lay my bag down in the dew of the morning grass, but without my bag stand...
Yep, weak as they are, those are my excuses for today's round.
"Still choking the cobra I see," Deuce commented, as I put a death grip on my mashie in preparation for my tee shot. "And what's with hitting a mashie from the tee? Ain't you never heerd of a spoon or a brassie before?"
"You play your way, I'll play mine," I hissed as I topped it and hit a worm burner 60 yards. At least I was in the fairway.
"Whew," he offered, shaking his head sadly.
"If you pay attention boy, I'll show you how it's done."
I wanted to tell him, "if you see a boy around here you kick his a**"...
...but he was already striding confidently to the tee where he struck his brassie 180 yards straight down the fairway while I stared, 50 shades of green with envy.
He nodded, a quick jerk of his head, then looked over at me for approval.
None was forthcoming.
He whistled and joked his way through 9 while I stomped and swore under my breath through the same but very different course.
When we were finally holing out he drained a 20 footer for a birdie while I 3 putted for a number nowhere near the same zip code as par.
"Well, thanks for the round," he offered as he hoisted his pencil bag and headed for the parking lot.
"Still driving a Model T I see!" I called after him.
"Hey buddy, ain't you heerd? There's a Depression on!'
With that he strode to his T...
later, mcm fans..
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