There was trauma and sadness here last night. Mr. Moon and Mr. Williamson went out to put the chickens and ducks up and on a whim, went and checked on the mama and babies.
So. That oak snake which was relocated two days ago was obviously not the only oak snake in the yard. A different one had the little all-yellow chick wrapped up and was suffocating it.
Lis and I were in the house, merrily getting supper ready, the doors and windows were shut and the AC on and we didn't hear a thing but there was a battle in the chicken coop. Mr. Moon grabbed the snake, freed the chick, and seriously- he and Lon both attempted to do a little CPR on the baby which did not revive him- and then Mr. Moon chopped the snake's head off. He was furious.
Even after all this time trying to raise baby chickens, it's still traumatic when something like this happens. Too much nature, as we sometimes say around here. Anyway, there's Mama and the two remaining babies. See how her tail feathers are spread? She is in constant protection mode and is trying to make herself look as big and threatening as possible which did not, obviously, impress the snake. And as safe as that box looks (and at night we keep the heavy lid down on it) a snake can slither its way into it.
And while all of that was going on, I got a call from Lily who was trying to Face Time me which was not working, because Owen had something to show and tell.
They sent pictures and I talked to Owen who was so excited about the whole deal that he was screaming into the phone but not with terror. He told me to have Boppy call him as soon as he could so that he could tell him too. And so immediately after killing the snake and burying the baby chick, he did, and Owen screamed his news to him too.
I can't quite believe that my Owen is already old enough to lose teeth but obviously, he is. He'll be six in five months.
Well, life in Lloyd.
Lon and Lis have hit the road, Mr. Moon is at work, the boys will be out later. I will see the gap in Owen's smile and they can see the babies. I feel almost as if I've been away for a few days and have, at the very least, stepped out of my routine.
But now I am back in it and the candle I lit last night is still burning and of course they are still counting deaths in Nepal and yet here I am, contemplating a gray sky, the death of a very small fluffy creature, and wondering what the boys and I will be getting up to today.
It's one of those days where all I can do is shake my head and think, "I really just don't know."
And I don't.