Country Wisdom

When we first moved out here, I thought I would keep my mouth shut & my ears open & I just might learn something. What I learned is 'Country Wisdom' is a myth, like 'Southern Hospitality' or 'The Noble Savage'.

Last week the farmers down the road shot a hawk. It was circling their blueberries. They thought it might eat the blueberries...? I cannot say that a hawk will never eat a blueberry. But I am quite sure a hawk would rather eat a mouse or rat or rabbit that will without a doubt eat a blueberry. More than one, even.

I don't know why I am surprised. A son of this family said my hens would never lay eggs if I didn't get a rooster. I told him that his wife ovulates even when he is out of town. Turns out, he's divorced. A couple years later he pointed to Spotter, an elderly ancona hen with a large red comb & remarked on my rooster. I told him it was a hen. He laughed & assured me it wasn't. Right.

Tonight the fireworks will start. Forget the drought (& the burn ban), forget the surrounding livestock (stampede, anyone?). It just isn't patriotic if you don't blow something up. Or at least make blow-things-up noises.

The dogs will bark all night long. The horses will run until they lather. People talk about the peace & quiet of the country. I would get more sleep in a girls-gone-wild motel during Spring Break than I will get tonight.

Don't get me wrong, I like it out here. & B*** is actually a nice guy, as rednecks go. I know he thinks we are the strangest pair he has ever met, but he is always pleasant & helpful. We suspect he likes to collect stories about them incomers, or whatever the redneck word for outlander might be.

But I hate this holiday.