That's When You Know...

6:30 AM: I head out to the shed to start my morning feeding duties. It's still somewhat dark. The night critters are still singing. The peepers are havin' a grand ol' time, and the crickets are playing their tiny fiddles. I make my way to the chicken coop and see a gray figure walking nearby. First, I think it is one of our cats. No, it's slinking. It ain't a cat. Oh My!! It's a postum (as we call them)! I put down my grain bucket and run like mad back to the house. I know the biddies (what I affectionately call my siblings) will wanna see this, so I know I need to get my camera. It is too early to wake them. By this time the postum is up in a tree next to the coop. Sweet little thing.



Now, postums were a regular occurrence last summer, but this is the first I've seen since then. Naturally I was amused.

Last year a big granddaddy postum came and decided to take residence IN my chicken coop. I was not amused by him. Well, I was, but in a different way. I was angry with him, and my hazel eyes showed it. :) I went after him like I would go after a Yank, hoe in hand. No one goes and steals eggs from my henhouse! He didn't know what happened. He ended up being picked up by the tail and thrown into a wire cage. Well, I had caught 'im, so I wasn't angry anymore. Just amused. We had a 4-H poultry judging meeting that afternoon, so I thought I'd bring 'im to show off.
Oh yeah. Everyone got a kick out of that.

We got home and traveled over to the edge of Mr. Thompson's woods. We let him go his way. I wonder iffen we should have let Mr. Thompson know? Anyway, he slinked on off into the piney woods and that was the end of Ernest T. Yeah, of course that's what we named him. A perfect fit. Yup, after my dear, beloved Ernest T. (If you don't watch Andy Griffith at our house, you just wouldn't understand.) I wonder if he knows a she-postum named Romeena?

Hey! Maybe that was Romeena I saw this mornin'? She may pronounce it Ramona, but he would prefer Romeena.

Well, I guess that's how you know you are a Georgian, a homeschooled kid that lives in Good Hope. When you get excited about a postum and name him after your favorite Andy Griffith Show character. Yup. It's official. I'm crazy. A crazy female that thinks postums and other critters are perfectly acceptable. In fact, she is amused by them! Good grief! She is crazy! At least we don't have any bears in our area. I'd die for sure.

I reckon I still should've eaten 'im.



Now I just need to find a coon and name 'im Malcolm Merriweather.

Or maybe a skunk and name 'im Gomer.