MonkeyJohn's Blog

2012-02-15T14:25:00.000-08:00

Sssshhhh! Don't anybody see me. I think I might be in trouble.

Somebody chewed up a snot-rag in the kitchen. Okay, it was me.

And somebody brought in sticks and mud from the yard. Okay, it was me.

And somebody messed up the couch cushions. Okay, it was me.

And knocked the pillows off the chair. Okay, it was me.

And somebody got dirt on the bed cover. Okay, it was me.

And somebody spilled kibbles on the floor. Okay, it was me.

And somebody got fur on the floor. Don't look at me, spaniels don't shed.

But I figured out what to do. I'll present ladymom with a bill for my interior decorating services.

She'll laugh and forgive me, I bet. We're really close.

Have you heard that sometimes dogs even get to looking like their owners?

Okay, problem solved. Time for a nap.

Have you noticed how quickly you can fall asleep when you have a clear conscience?

Ladymom says this blog needs a disclaimer. She's a good housekeeper and wants you to know these messes were just "special effects."

You believe that, don't you?

The Golden Rule

2011-12-31T05:59:00.000-08:00

Sister Holly of the Holy Caninites here.

You know, I'm glad I'm a dog because humans are hard to figure out.

You see, they gave me this nice blanket.

I call it the "Golden Rule Blanket."

I love my blankie!

But sometimes they try to take it away and won't stop tugging.

And sometimes they get all upset if I play with it.

They tell me to stop doing that.

Bad Hiney! Bad Hiney!

But I'm only following the Golden Rule.

The devil made me do it.

Bummer!

Holy Donuts, Batman!

2011-11-27T08:18:00.000-08:00

The revelations have been revealed.

We have consulted our GPS and have been shown the way!

We have been researching the holy texts.

We have been perusing the ancient, sacred scrolls

We have found religion. Hallelujah!

It is the traditional religion of our tribe.

The truth has come down from on high.

We are the lost tribe of the bible.

What? You never heard of the Canine-ites?

We have been joined by Sister Holly, from the northern lands.

(She's actually our cousin, but we don't claim her)

Only canines are allowed. It's church dogma.

Here, the high priest hands the divine food to the two-legged accolyte.

The food is held up for the blessing.

And the church is enveloped in a spiritual glow!

We are happy with our new religion. And we're glad to welcome Sister Holly into the flock. I'm sure she's a very devout young lady.

After all, she's in charge of the fertility rites.

To Be Continued...

FEEL THE BURN!

2011-11-05T07:34:00.000-07:00

Does this chair make me look fat?

Of course it doesn't! I'm perfectly perfect in every weigh. But for those of you who need help dieting, I've introduced my new Wait Loss Program - FEEL THE BURN!

You can eat anything you want. Glazy Donuts!

Cake!

Ice Cream!

Eat all you want! Here's how the program works.

First, you need a horse.

Bark at him as loud as you can!

Then run all around and get ready to FEELTHE BURN

Keep running until your tongue hangs out!

Okay, here comes the burn. This step is especially effective if you ate Mexicans the night before.

I can feel the pounds dropping off!

Like I said, it's a Wait Loss Program. Wait until you have to go and you lose weight every time you poop, guaranteed. Look how skinny I am!

Not a real diet, you say? Poppy cocks. You diet your way, I'll diet my way. Grrrr!

The Great Glazy Donut Scandal

2011-10-15T07:11:00.000-07:00

Hello, Sebastian Spade, Private Nose, here. I'm on the case of a dasturdly villain.

Secret Agent James Cocker and I bummed out. Someone hijacked our blog last week and said we'd been eating glazy donuts, which of course are unhealthy for us.

At first I was amazed.

And then angry.

I'm going to find out who did this terrible insult to our reputation. Let me tell you what really happened last week.

Daddy Man had picked some fresh fall asparagoose. Every one knows raw asparagoose is non-fattening, prevents cancer and provides fiber in your diet. Unlike donuts, it's very good for you.

And that's why I love it.

I even steal it off the counter.

As you can see, James hesitates for a moment--and you know what they say about he who hesitates.

Interception!

But he manages to get the next one.

And then slinks off to eat it in hiding. What? Does he think I'd steal it or something?

Anyway, you remember what I said about fiber. Oops! James can't handle it.

But don't worry, Seb Spade is on the case and I'll let you know if I find out who the hijacker is. I have my suspects.

Probably somebody cold and beady-eyed.

"Life is like a box of donuts." - James Cocker

2011-10-09T07:19:00.000-07:00

This morning was wonderful. I can still taste it on my tongue.

Sebastian and I both got a glazy donut for good behavior at the parlor. You know the place, Jacqueline's Posh Wash for Paws and Claws.

They smelled great!

Pleeeeeze give me the donut.

Sebastian ate his in one bite and choked himself, but I savored it. (Actually, I wasn't sure what side of the donut to eat first.)

I don't see how any treat could top that.

But you can always dream, can't you?

Life is like a box of donuts! Eat all you can get your mouth around!

The Cone of Indignity

2011-09-24T14:23:00.000-07:00

I seem to have a problem. I've been scratching and biting at myself because of itching and burning.

And now I'm forced to wear The Cone of Indignity.

I feel like running away...

...and hiding my shame.

I'm feeling quite depressed.

It tastes like plastic when I try to lick my ... well, my "you know what."

I hear there's a medicine that will stop the itching and burning, so I can get better, but I'm not allowed in the drug store and I have no money anyway.

So, would you mind going to the store and buying me some "Vagisil"?

I don't want to end up like this!

I just hope it's veterinarian recommended.

Sad News

2011-08-05T06:40:00.000-07:00

Hello, James Cocker here, Agent P-double0-P. I'm afraid we have some very sad news. Right, Agent Sebastian?

Yes. very sad. This blog won't be funny.

Agent C, alias Candy, has permanently left the agency.

We'll all miss you, Candy.

May all your walks have squirrels to chase and may all your bones be meaty.

Looking for fairies

2011-07-29T17:34:00.000-07:00

Remember me? The name is Cocker, James Cocker

Secret agent and super-hero.

Let me tell you about our vacation on Ocracoke Island. Here we all are, waiting for the fairy. This is where I wrapped my leash around Daddy-Man's legs and gave him a rope burn. He yelled so loud that everyone stared at him. See me waving?

"Where's the fairy?" asks the slobber patrol.

Never did see the fairy. We got on a boat instead. Better duck, Lady-Mom!

Here I am, watching for dolphins. I'm a great sports fan, you know. I saw some, but didn't get any autographs.

It was too crowded on the boat, and we had to stay in the Jeep.

Sadly, the Lady-Mom forgot to duck.

That's the island, ahead. Or so they told me, I have no proof we didn't just ride the boat around in a circle.

And this is called the Fairy Doc, but I never did see a fairy here, either.

Here is the vacation house. The first day, I thought they said "defecation" house and there was a little accident. Silly me!

Agent Sister embarrassed us, as usual.

Here's Lady-Mom and Aunt Denise. This is where they sit and laugh while Daddy-Man drowns and yells for help.

This is Uncle David. I growl at him because he calls me, "Pudge." He waved goodbye to Daddy-Man while he was drowning.

Here's Daddy-Man. He never went back into the surf after they finally dragged him back up on the beach. I think he was afraid of "shocks," or something.

This is Travis and Rosie. Travis saw "shocks" in the water and was on TV news when a little girl was attacked by the shocks. And then he went swimming in the surf with Uncle Mike. Lady-Mom was NOT amused.

Sometimes Uncle David catches fish. Usually, though, he rips their lips off with the hook and then says bad words.

This is "Lobster-Man." He stayed in the house a lot, after his first day.

Now, be honest. Would YOU want to go on vacation with these people?

When we got on the boat to go home, I got to look out the special "super-hero" window. The boat didn't have a "poop" deck when we got on, but NOW it does.

Oh yeah, like YOUR poop doesn't stink, mister!

It was real hot and shade was hard to come by.

We were glad to get home.

And notice just what super-hero and side-kick didn't get included in the family picture!

Look, Ma, I can proofreed

2011-06-24T10:29:00.000-07:00

Sorry James hasn't been blogging lately. He's too busy in the summer to do much blogging. He's been busy watching me mow, watching me garden, watching me weedwhack, watching me vacuum the pool, watching me tend the amimals, etc. He's too exhausted to blog.

I've begun freelance editing with a couple of online services and was so amazed at the errors in writer's profiles. Remember, these are supposedly professionals, who want to sell you on their writing skills. Here are a few of them:

*I am a college student my majors are Elementary Edcation, English, and Science with a minor in Social Studies.

I thought that was spelled “edumacation.”

*Willing to work with you to provide the results you want and need. Happy to personalize any speech or announcement as to make it more effective and more prone to listening ears. My writing is sure to sound as professional as any over paid half-wit and, given the right resources, I can assure that I can compile any amount of data in a clear and eloquent manner.

So why should I hire you instead of some other over-paid halfwit? Oh, now I see.

When you write, the reader doesn’t have to read, he just needs to listen to the sound.

*Job history… Being a Nerd; Being a Geek; Being a Propellerhead

So, you’ve never had a job, huh?

*our track record demonstrates our committment to our clients - overwhelmingly positive feedback and many perfect 5.0 scores.

Which is better than imperfect 5.0 scores, right?

*Hello Future Employer
My name is ****** I am 21 years old and live in Strathroy Ont. Canada. I am a Idependent Outsourcing Contractor. With a degree from **** District Collegiate Institute. and experience from the course Life Smarts / Job Smarts issued by Leads Employment Services Inc. I have minor knowledge in bussiness and marketing and am a certified typing expert typing upwards of 85 words per second.

85 WORDS PER SECOND! Every writer should take that Life Smarts / Job Smarts course if they can certify that sort of speed. And they even issue experience.

*I’m a freelance writer with a passion for writng, i proof-read all my own work as well as acedemic articles by several other writters, I Have also done some proof -reading for technical articles and advertising for a local electronics company. I have some experience with article writing incuding advertising and local news. I have an excellent grasp of the English language including punctuation, grammarand sentence forming. I admit I am a bit of a perfectionist but can offer dedication to any project and will focus and complete work to the best of my ability Although I am a rookie. I have 10 years freelancing experience.

So, which gives me the greater reason to use your service? The misspelling or the comma splices? Or maybe the fact you’re a rookie, yet have 10 years experience? Anyway, pick up a copy of eats, shoots, and leaves, huh?

*My name is Imran. I am from Sialkot(

Pakistan

). I am MBA in finance.

I am LOL impressed.

*I am join here for make some real money from my hard work.i have more than 10 years experience in online marketing,article writing ,promotion,camping and many more. but if you want authentic work then you must complete your work by me. – India

I’d hire a happy camper at the drop of a backpack.

*i can write different articles with a wide range of topics. i can make summaries and reviews as well. copywriting wouldn’t be a problem either though my greatest strenght would be with features.

And what’s your greatest weankess?

*I also expertise in SEO and I am familiar will all aspects of Search Engine Optimization.
And do you also expertise in use of the word “with?”

*I’ve also wrote the sales side of the business.

Yeah, who cares about tense, anyway? You’re hired.

That's all for now. Hopefully I'll have a chance to blog more, since I have Fridays off in the summer.

John

Eagle Sightings

2011-04-09T05:27:00.000-07:00

Sorry, the secret agents won't be blogging this week. Now that the weather's warming up, I'm going to be a lot busier at outside work.

The eagle has been back and he (she?) brought company along. An immature eagle, blotchy brown and feathery roosted in the same tree, alongside the adult. I spent 20 minutes before sunset in the stable, hoping to get a picture if one of them stooped on a chicken, then chase the eagle off. They didn't attack, however, and flew off at dusk. Then Thursday, the adult flew directly over my head, about thirty feet high. Magnificient!

Asparagus is growing like crazy, which is also how we eat it.

Last weekend, a tree came down and wiped out a section of fence. Thursday, one of the horses broke the fence, where it had been weakened by Boo cribbing (chewing wood and pulling it loose) and got free. So I had to take off from work and repair the fence, including a new electric-fence transformer and running new wire. This weekend, we start work on the garden.

I got a great review of WOLFWRATH on Amazon and the Museum of the Albemarle Gift Shop has agreed to sell copies of "..AND REMEMBER THAT I AM A MAN."

That's it for this week. Take care,

John

Wrestle Mania

2011-04-02T06:53:00.000-07:00

Hello, welcome to the BRF - Bedroom Rasslin' Federation

Today, on "Everyday Fights" we bring you...

That wild and crazy guy - Stone-Cold Sebastian

And his opponent - The Mystery Wrestler

He's really up for this match.

On your mark. Get set. Go!

A lightning move takes Stone-Cold by surprise

Brilliant! It's the Ear-flap opening!

The Mystery Wrestler uses the Cheek-Bite Takedown.

Stone-Cold is not amused.

He pushes his smaller opponent off.

And the battle is on.

What a fight!

The Mystery Wrestler gains the upper paw!

Then pulls a surprise move.

It's a Full-tail Nelson!

But Stone-Cold is sly.

It's the old Anal-Gland-Expression escape!

"Yuck!"

"Hey, there's a penalty for that."

MW is really mad, now.

He takes Stone-Cold down.

And gets Stone-Cold into position for the move that will reveal the mystery wrestler's true identity -

It's HUMP HOGAN!

And the match is over. Stone-Cold knows when he's been licked.

Chick Magnet

2011-03-26T09:02:00.000-07:00

We have a problem.

A serious problem.

I never would have believed it.

DaddyMan went out and he says he's going to pick up chicks.

How could he do that to MommyLady?

We wish he'd come home and stay with us.

He's home and he brought this box with him.

It's probably a box of candy for MommyLady. He should be ashamed. But it sure smells tasty.

Hey! This box just chirped.

Holy crap! Look what DaddyMan brought home.

What d'ya think you're looking at, Buster?

I'll bet you're delicious.

I could chomp you right up.

Hey, Daddyman put them up where we can't reach.

No fair!

I hope he takes me along next time he goes out to pick up chicks.

The Spy who Came Home from the Spa

2011-03-18T15:22:00.000-07:00

Hello. As I'm sure everyone knows, I'm Secret Agent James Cocker.

I've decided to let you know about top secret spy agencies. You know:

F.B.I. - C.I.A. - M.I.5 - K.G.B. - S.P.C.A. - P.E.T.A.

Some of these, you've probably already figured out from my earlier secret reports..

F.B.I. - Face Bends Inexplicably

C.I.A. - Candy Is Annoying

M.I.5 - No, you just had your third birthday, remember?

I'll tell you about the bad guy organizations by telling you about a recent operation.

The case started with that lady over there.
You know her as MommyLady.

She looks friendly, I know, but I'm beginning to suspect she's really a double agent.

She said she would take me to the S.P.A. to get my hair done. Notice how beautiful and curly it is.

I figured we'd have a beauty treatment and maybe stop for cupcakes or jelly donuts on the way home.

I should have been suspicious, but all I could think of was jelly donut.

Before I knew what was going on , I ended up at a place called Animal Adventures Grooming Parlor.

Adventures? Talk about false advertising. I'm turning A.A.G.P. in to the B.B.B.!

A young lady put me on a table and started pulling my hair. She kept asking me about someone named Matt and telling me how bad he was.

Matt's my cousin, but I wouldn't tell them anything about him. Instead I resisted.

That's when they put the muzzle on me.

They kept torturing me, but I called on my superpowers.

I wouldn't tell 'em nuttin'.

She said she couldn't straighten Matt out and he'd have to be "eliminated." She began torturing me with buzzing clippers.

I realized I'd fallen into the hands of the K.G.B.

Krazed Girl Barbers.

When she was done with me, I also realized what S.P.A. stood for.

Shaving People's Asses!

Secret Agents hate it when that happens.

The Secret Mission

2011-03-12T03:55:00.000-08:00

James Cocker here, with a report on a top secret expedition.

We got really tired.

We had to obey all the signs.

This one was easy.

We weren't allowed to run.

Not even to chase these guys.

We REALLY wanted to obey THIS sign.

But one sign took ALL the fun out of things.

"I'm going behind this log."

But there were plenty of activities to enjoy.

The Tractor-Pull.

Snorkeling

LOTS of snorkeling.

Then there was bungee-jumping.

But we weren't allowed to go swimming.

And I was sort of thirsty, too.

All the while, we could hear the spring peeper frogs in the trees. Somehow one of those frogs got in Daddy-Man's pants.

We heard it croaking.

You Are what You Eat

2011-03-06T14:12:00.000-08:00

Hello, I'm Sebastian and I'm taking over this blog.

Don't tell anyone, but I'm also known as Seb Spade, Private Detective. Ignore the elephant - he's part of my cover.

I can be tough when I need to.

I'm on a case for this dame, known on the street as MommyLady.

She wants me to keep an eye on this guy, James Cocker.

His Gangsta name is Fuzzy-Britches.

I've been developing a modus operandi, and I can tell exactly what he's been up to.

When his feet are dirty, he's been digging in the garden - a bathing offense.

When he's had dinner, I can tell what he's eaten.

If his whiskers and ear-tips are red. . .

...it's Italian night.

If his whiskers and ear-tips are brown...

...it's gravy night.

If his whiskers are white...

...he's had ice cream.

If his poop smells funny...

...Mommy boiled chicken livers and added some to his kibbles.

If his breath stinks really bad, he ate at that French place...

...le Cafe du Chat!

A note from MonkeyJohn. I'm holding drawings for free print copies of my novels. Click the Wolfwraith cover at the top right of the blog or go to my web site, http:/www.johnbushore and sign the guest book for a chance to win.

A Catered Affair

2011-03-05T05:31:00.000-08:00

Hello, the names Cocker. James Cocker. Secret Agent P-doubleOh-P. Sorry I didn't blog last weekend, but I was exhausted. Here's why:

Too-Doo-Too-Doo!

"Owoooh!"

Announcing a special affair.

Attendance is mandatory.

"I'm so excited, I could just shit."

Preparations began well in advance.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Aha! Monkeybusiness."

"Don't bother wrapping that."

"Gimmee, gimmee, gimmee."

The Gala begins.

As mentioned, attendance was required.

Agent Sister (in her Secret Agent Scooby-doo disguise) starts the affair off with a squeal.

The excitement was spontaneous.

Although not everyone could contain their enthusiasm.

"How undignified," says Agent C.

Then it was time for the banquet. Ice Cream was catered by WalMart.

Hats were catered by Party City. Cupcakes catered by Mommy

.

Agent Sister catered the party-favors. Agent Sebastian ate them at the end of the party.

And Double-Stack Burgers came from Wendy's.

The banquet begins.

"If I ever ate that before, I don't think I liked it."

Special Agent James Cocker prefers his ice cream separate from the cupcake.

"Shaken, not stirred, don't you know?"

That's better.

Perfect.

Gourmets prefer their flavors remain separate. "I believe this cupcake is 2011 vintage, what?"

Ice cream should be savored. Gobbled - but savored.

"My compliments to da chef!"

"Any left?"

Time to open presents - Finally!

That didn't take long.

Agent Sebastian is a retriever, so he was honored for 3 years of retrieving.

I'm a cocker, so at my next boofday, I'll be honored for 3 years of ....

...um, never mind.

See ya next week.

Who let the tuwds out? woof-----woof

2011-02-20T11:47:00.000-08:00

We have a problem!

There are tuwds on the floor.

We're not sure who did it.

But we have our suspicions.

We're sort of worried.

Will Daddy-Man and Lady-Mom scold us when they come home and find tuwds on the floor?

Agent "C" says we should tell them a burglar broke in and did it.

Professor Whizbang, here, says we should blame the horses for it.

Personally, I'm going to say I was looking the other way when the tuwds showed up.

Or maybe I was sleeping at the time.

And I'm so cute, they'll probably believe me.

That's called pawsible deniability.

Oh, well. . .

Shit happens.

Coming March 7

James and the Giant Jugs

2011-02-15T13:53:00.000-08:00

Hello, I'm James Cocker, Private Eye. I'm sure glad football season is over.

Even though the Super Bowl was okay.

But Daddy-Man watches football when he could be taking us for a walk.

Lady-Mom says he's really only interested in the cheerleaders because they have big jugs.

So here's the mystery I have to solve. Why does Daddy-Man have to watch football? After all, Lady-Mom has big jugs, too.

See!

They may be old, but they're still in pretty good shape.

It's a mystery.

What an audience!

2011-02-12T14:46:00.000-08:00

The Blogger, suddenly realizing that this site might attract children because of the cute dogs, has edited this post. Figure it out.

Hey, I'd like to give a special welcome to the person who found my blog by googling "Big black ROOSTERS, white chicks." I hope you enjoyed the pictures of my chickens.

For those of you who didn't know, I can see where everyone came from and what search words they used.

Have a great day, new chicken fan, whereever you are.

MonkeyJohn

Jamesy's Word of the Day: Euphemism

Definition: What Snoop Dog says when he smells something stinky.

Top Secret Undercover Secret Agent

2011-02-12T12:05:00.000-08:00

Hello, the name's James. James Cocker.

I'm also secretly secret agent P-doubleO-P, but don't tell anyone because it's a secret.

I might look cute and cuddly, but you'll notice I have a license to kill.

So, don't mess with me.

Let me introduce you to my staff.

This is "M," or MonkeyJohn. He thinks he's the boss but he's only in charge of petting and poopscooping.

When he's sober, anyway.

This is Miss MommyLady. She's the real boss and is in charge of feeding and fussing over the agents.

This is our associate, Agent Sister. She's from the F.B.I.

F.B.I. -- Face Bends Inexplicably

Here's Agent Sebastian. He doesn't know his numbers, yet.

He's in charge of Home Base Security.

This is Agent Squeak, the token cat.

This is agent "C". She's in charge of the secret weapon.

GAS!

Whoa!

Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Super Hero at the Super Bowl

2011-02-06T15:01:00.000-08:00

Here I am, Jamesy the Brave, resting up for the Super Bowl

Is it time for the kick-off?

You can have your dumb, old Super Bowl, I'm up for the Super-Supper Bowl.

Off Sides!

And now, here's Ball-Park Frank.

And the Prince of Whales!

The Adventures of Jamesy the Brave. Shadow Man Attacks!

2011-01-29T15:13:00.000-08:00

Hello, I'm Jamesy the Brave, Super-Dog. Behind me is Sebastian, who is also known as Captain Courageous. Don't tell anyone!

Here, Captain Courageous and I are looking for evil villains from our secret headquarters, which has some kind of walls you can see through, but bump your head if you try to walk through.

As you can see, we have a very modern spy device. If you look through this, monsters look like they are very close.

So we never look through it.

The Captain spies a monster.

It's Shadow Man!

We rush to the attack, but Shadow Man disguises himself as a plastic bag.

The Captain puts him down.

While I go on the look-out for the real Shadow Man.

I know he's around here somewhere.

For all I know, he could be right up my butt.

Oh, my gosh, there he is.

I think I'll go see my mommy, now.

Don't they know Caped Crusaders don't have to take baths?

Come back again for more adventures. My fur will be dry by then.

Now available online at Amazon Books.

Off the Hizzook

2011-01-26T12:09:00.000-08:00

Language has been evolving with the internet and texting, simplifying as communication by keyboard has become more commonplace. U no wut I mean, LOL. As a writer, I've been ignoring the trend, but I've always wondered why I still have to ask someone, "What's your e-mail address?" Four stinking syllables! Even worse, I can't just ask anyone to mail me something, anymore. I have to say, "snail mail".

Besides that, I've always wanted to add a word usage to the English language.

In 02, when I put my first poem on the internet, "An Ode to Rap," someone commented I was "off the hizzook." Since the only snoop dog I'd heard of was the original Snoopy, it took me six years to learn what it meant. So how come the rappers get away with all the new words? In the spirit of the original poem, it's time for a writer to step up to the hizplate.

So be the first on hizblock to start a new trend. Instead of "I'll send you an e-mail," just say "I'll eel you."
Easy, huh? Half the syllables, half the time to speak or keyboard.

Like that? Eel me, and let me know.

Stick with me, this works. So don't say "Send it by snail mail," say "Snail it."

See how this fits together? A couple of slimy creatures.

Slippery eels slithering through fibernet cables or the ether seems natural. Electric eels on an electronic network. A snail lumbering along the road with an envelope on its back is a great metaphor for the postal service.

Now, don't go postal on me. Only kidding, LOL.

I realize this new language might be repulsive to some folks, especially the ladies. Slimy snails and a slippery cylinder of skin filled with muscle. Who could like something like that?

So I'm officially beginning a campaign to introduce "eeling" and "snailing" into the language.

Oh, and here's the poem that was "off the hizzook."

An Ode to Rap

They can't be bothered with grammar or phonics;

ain't nothin' wrong with talkin' ebonics.

They word up a rap, monophonic

to music nowheres near harmonic.

Some play da gangsta, act demonic,

show off a gun and break sardonic.

Their fans won't think that they're moronic

'cuz most of 'em are catatonic.

Most got no talent and it's ironic

that they get rich off their histrionics.

I'm sure the world will never hear

a rap that comes remotely near

to a metered line, crisp and clear,

that holds the English language dear.

A poet elicits a sigh, a tear,

or a thought to cherish and revere.

A lilting verse that brings you cheer

when read aloud to please the ear,

or the little jest that you see here,

a poem is a gift, sincere.

The differences between a rap and a poem?

They're obvious but some don't know 'em.

Rapping is talking with rhyme, not reason,

but words have souls and the poet frees 'em.

John Bushore

An Ode to Rap was selected by Poem Kingdom - an

internet poetry forum - as the "Spotlight Poem"

for February, 2002.

The Adventures of Jamesy the Brave

2011-01-22T07:33:00.000-08:00

Hello, my name is James and I'm cute. Cute but feisty.

Don't tell anyone but I have super-powers. Doo-doo, Dod-doo, Doo-doo, Doo-doo James Dog.

Snazzy tights, huh?

I'm always on the lookout for villains.

Like this one! Mister Bad-Suck

Here I'm attacking at super-speed!

This morning, I looked out the window.

Wow, was I surprised to see strange monsters out there. The same monsters I see everyday.

One of those nasty monsters got right in my face.

The same monster who bit that hole in the screen last week. I hate this monster the mostest of all monsters.

I ran outside, not even taking time to put on my super-costume.

I was right. That monster was very lucky to be on the other side of the fence. I tried to get at it, anyway. I snarled very loud.

Look, there's nothing hanging down. It's a girl monster. The worstest kind.

I bet I scared it away and it'll never come back. One of these days, I'm going to meet a monster more my size.

I can hardly wait.

James Dog will return.

Who's MonkeyJohn?

2011-01-18T05:40:00.000-08:00

I just realized anyone coming to this site will have no idea who "MonkeyJohn" is. It started about 15 years ago, when my nephew, Mike Hilinski was about 4 years old. His older brother, Matt, and my kids, Travis and Jackie told him that humans were descended from apes. And that I was the original ape. They said that he'd gotten my name wrong, it wasn't Uncle John, but MonkeyJohn. So the next time he saw me, he said, "Hello MonkeyJohn," and all the other kids yukked it up.

Later, when my kids' stories began to be published, I realised youngsters wouldn't know how to pronounce Bushore, so I changed my children's author pen name to MonkeyJohn.

When my first adult novel, Friends in Dark Places, was published, I attended a book signing with another author on Halloween. The book store asked that we dress up, so I bought an eye patch and pirate bandana. The other author, Sharon Oberne, is a reading teacher and asked if I'd be willing to read to the kids. Presto, MonkeyJohn the Pirate was born. Dickens went along the first time.

I found a cheap pirate hat in WalMart and became a regular at the Buddy Reading Club.

On Ocracoke Island, I bought a replica flintlock and an old sword. Diane sewed me a pirate shirt and things progressed from there.

Last year the Buddy Reading Club received Presidential Citations and I was honored to give an award to a young author. My picture ended up in the American Reading Association's national newspaper. Now I sometimes read at different Norfolk Schools on National Reading Day, which also happens to be Dr. Seuss day.

Can you imagine hearing "Green Eggs and Ham" from a pirate. AARGH, I do not like green eggs and ham.

But sometimes, I'll read something written by MonkeyJohn

A Just Reward

by MonkeyJohn

A flying saucer floated down

and settled in my yard.

A ship from outer space, I guessed -

which wasn’t very hard.

It came down beside the doghouse,

way over by the fence.

Old Spot growled low and stretched his chain,

to come to my defense.

On trembling legs, I snuck up close

a camera in my hand.

With proof of this, I’d soon be rich,

be famed throughout the land.

Then with a whoosh, a hatch appeared;

a slimy thing came out.

A shapeless blob, with one dark hole

that seemed to be a mouth.

And sure enough, these words it spoke:

“We’ve watched you long from space,

examined you to judge your worth –

the merits of your race.

“We found you to be brave of heart,

so friendly, kind and true.

We have great power, knowledge, wealth;

all this we’ll share with you.

“We’ve noticed your great loyalty

a very precious trait.

We offer immortality.

Come join your friends in space,”

My gosh, I thought, it offers all,

this being from afar.

“Hello,” said I, “How kind of you,

to offer man the stars.”

An eye appeared, and looked at me

as though it found me odd.

“Man didn’t pass. Now go away.

I’m talking to the dog.”

Published in Beyond Centauri – July 2005

Everybody was Kluck-fu fighting

2011-01-17T13:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, we went to Hal's Henhouse (He raises chickens, Delawares, Rhode Island Reds and Sex-link chickens.) and bought a dozen Delaware laying hens. As you may know, chickens must establish a pecking order, so there was a bit of commotion when I put them together in the evening. All the hens were flapping and kick boxing. But by next morning, peace returned to the coop.

Still, some of the older biddies get a serious case of the red-ass when they meet strangers.

But the roosters don't seem to mind. Here's a Barred Plymouth Rock Cock (yes, I'm allowed to say that.) strutting his stuff for the new girls.

But the white Delaware stud moves right in on the new opportunities.

So, the girls have their choice of the black cock, or the white cock.

They chose to have dinner, instead.

Animals are the kwaziest people

2011-01-16T09:19:00.000-08:00

This is James Cocker, just turned two years old on Christmas Eve.

You wouldn't know it from this picture, but James has an attitude problem. He spent his puppyhood in an apartment with my son and his girlfriend, coming to live with us about six months ago. He's decided he doesn't like cats, chickens, birds, horses or my iguana, Dickens.

James also doesn't like airplanes and tries to catch them when they come in low over the yard to land at the small airport across the street.

This is Zooey, a 4 year old mare.

She also looks laid back, but looks can be deceiving.
(Does this pasture make my ass look big?)

When James first came to us, he ran into the pasture and attacked Zooey's feet. She calmly walked away, knocking him over. Since then, they haven't gotten along. Today, Zooey and the other 2 horses were outside our bedroom window, where they often gather to enjoy the warmth of the sun reflected off the house. James took offense and began barking through the window, so Zooey gave him a close look. So close, she shoved the screen in. When she wandered off, I fixed the screen. She came back and shoved it in again. I fixed it, then went out. According to Diane, James began barking again, so Zooey came over and bit a large hole in the screen. I guess she showed me who's boss.

This is Sebastian, my almost 3 year old Golden, who we rescued from people who kept him in a crate day and night and then couldn't understand why he was so rambunctious when they let him out to play with their children.

He ignored the whole affair at the window.

2011-01-15T11:53:00.000-08:00

We live on the east side of the Great Dismal Swamp canal, on land originally part of the swamp. The canal drained this area in the early 1800's and it's been used as agricultural land ever since. It's flat as my washboard stomach (You believe that!?) We moved here on Memorial Day, 2000 and didn't have any major problems with floodwater for the first few years. Even Hurricane Isabel's flooding wasn't so bad. Here's a shot from 2006, our house is on your left. (That's Candy out front. She's a bit of a lucky gal. Three years ago, just before Christmas, she had a 10 pound tumor removed from her spleen. Now she's 12 and slowing down, but at least she's still here.)

Three years ago, or so, they finished the new highway 17, which used to run along the edge of the canal. Since then, flooding has been a major problem. The farmland behind us used to drain into the canal, apparently, and can no longer go out that way. So floodwater collects right here in our yard, where two drainage culverts are supposed to drain into a ditch heading eastward, but the ditch hasn't been cleared out for half a century, because the ditch machine broke down 20 years ago and was never replaced. That old ditch is so clogged it can't take the extra water. Here's a picture of my raised bed garden, water so high you can't see the railroad ties around each bed.

Here's the stable

Okay, you might think that's bad, but you can see it's only just above ankle deep. The last couple of floods, it's been knee deep. Can you imagine walking through brown water with horse turds and chicken manure floating? Not only that, our septic tank goes under water, so you can imagine how much disgusting liquid that adds.

Three years ago, we called the city, as did many of our neighbors, but got no response. Not only did they ignore our plight, but they cleared and dug out the ditches out farther up West Road, two miles away, where there's never been the slightest flooding. I contacted the local paper's "Pilot Warrior," also known as John Warren and he got on the city. So what did they do? First two city workers showed up and painted a couple of arrows on the road. A few days later, two more guys arrived and shoveled a tiny bit of muck from the entrance of the culverts. When John Warren found out, he raised hell. This time, they sent out a sheriff's work crew (Cool Hand Luke and the boys) who cut down bushes in the ditch across the road and shoveled muck from the ditch up into the field. They worked 4 days, but only got about 10 feet of ditch cleared. We figured that was the best we'd get and hoped it would help. After the last flood, when everyone complained again, they sent out a huge "vacuum" truck. The crew had been ordered to clean the ditches under driveways, but no one had told them to clean the main culvert. They were good, conscientious guys, though, so they cleaned it when I asked. I've since heard (from an un-named source I don't want to get into trouble) that the guy in charge of Chesapeake Services said, "If those people didn't want to get flooded, they shouldn't have moved into the swamp area." Nice, huh? How come the city issued building permits?

Anyway, here's my point. George Washington surveyed this area in the 1700's and figured out how to drain the swamp with a canal, which also allowed lumber to float to market. It drained all the land east of the canal, as they'd calculated. A road was created by the soil dug from the swamp and placed alongside. In the 2000's, the road-engineers decided to move the highway a mile off the swamp, because they would have had to fill in more swamp to accomodate 4 lanes. So what's the first thing they had to do? They had to fill in swamp, raising it several feet above the surrounding area to provide a roadbed. This blocked the natural drainage set up centuries ago by the early settlers, who had no computers to design the drainage. Progress is wonderful.

Also, the city can't clear ditches because their machine no longer works. But guess what? Let a developer decide to put in a neighborhood, they'll suddenly find the machinery.

Come on, Chesapeake, it's so bad out here that these two young geese came in through our door to avoid drowning in a flood.

I wouldn't lie, would I?

Gonna get me some chicks.

2011-01-05T17:05:00.000-08:00

Just to set the record straight, I always take my wife along when I go to pick up chicks.

It's time to begin thinking about incubating eggs. I've gotten an e-mail from a teacher who has an incubator and would like 18 or so eggs to be hatched before spring break. So now I have to calculate the gestation time of 22 days, and how many days it will take to collect the eggs. I only have 4 Delaware hens, so I'll get 2-3 eggs a day. They're good for about twenty days at room temperature and will only start to develop once they're warmed. Actually, I'd like to have twice as many chicks, at least, since half will be roosters. I don't have an incubator, but my neighbor has two and gives me the use of them.

Last year, I tried letting two hens brood. Out of maybe 30 eggs, only 3 hatched and one survived. And it got taken by something when only half grown. I think I waited too late in the year for the eggs to develop well.

The hawk is still hanging around and I've gotten several good looks at him with the scope. The chickens are only allowed out at dusk, when I'm out in the pasture feeding horses and such.

I've been too busy to blog much, setting up publication for all sorts of books and novels this year. I hope for a banner year. I'll be publishing "...and Remember that I Am a Man." to Amazon in February (I just ordered the proof copy) and Wolfwraith will be put out by Damnation Books in March. A couple of months after that, I'll be publishing The SpaceMonkey Adventures by Monkey John and later the mid-grade, shorter version of the Moses Grandy story, Slave Boy. And in my spare time, maybe I'll invent a time machine so I can have some spare time. That's logical, isn't it? After all, I need some time to finish the next novel, Gandy Dancer, also set in the Great Dismal Swamp.

Attention, WalMart Shoppers

2010-12-31T13:43:00.000-08:00

As we wring out the old year, let me say that I've been around a few years now and I notice things.

For instance: Whereever I go, half the people seem to be below average intelligence. Except for Wal-mart.

At Walmart today, black-eyed peas, a traditional good-luck item in southern New Years' Day dinner, were sold out on the packaged beans aisle, the canned beans aisle, and the frozen beans aisle. We encountered several other shoppers looking for them in vain. We chanced upon them as we were leaving. Black-eyed peas were still stacked high on a special display over by the seafood, however, where they'd be easy to find.

Also at Walmart today, I had parked the cart in a corner where I'd be out of the way. A woman came by from behind me, saying in a loud voice "Stay there, Richard. Stay there. Wait right there, I said." Behind her came her poor 25 year-old Down's Syndrome son, pushing a cart and looking confused as hell. Then came Richard's father, taking up the rear with the 15 year old Down's son riding in a cart. The father was yelling, "Move it, Richard, move it." That poor kid!

In addition, we saw two girls wearing snow boots with scanty, off-the-shoulder outfits and one wearing sandals and a heavy jacket. At least they weren't in the same group. And there was the lady who loved purple so much, she was wearing almost every shade of it of purple and lavender. She had dressed her granddaughter in the other shades.

At the all-you-can-eat oriental buffet, we saw a woman who was morbidly obese. I mean Jabba the Hut FAT. She was waddling around, filling a plate with desserts. I guess you're not too fat until your arms won't reach the food when your belly is up against the bar. Or maybe, at that point, she'd just absorb the buffet like a giant amoeba. Hey, hold it, this isn't an all-you-can-absorb buffet, Jabba.

The hawk's been coming back and the telescope is set up. He's a large, red-tailed hawk in dark winter plumage. I got to about 50 yards by angling back and forth across the pasture so I never seemed to be walking straight at him. As soon as I reached the fence line and couldn't angle any more, he flew off.

Attention WalMart shoppers. Have a happy new year.

Hawk repellent

2010-12-30T06:57:00.000-08:00

For all you other chicken ranchers out there, I've discovered a great way to keep hawks and eagles away. Just set up a large telescope inside a glass porch, aimed at their favorite perch. I set it up Sunday after seeing the eagle and two hawks. They must think it's a cannon, because I haven't seen a hawk since my first post. But, then again, it might have something to do with the foot of snow still on the ground.

A bit of Dismal Swamp history

2010-12-29T11:02:00.000-08:00

With the week off, I'm working hard to get my history novel formatted for publication. It took me 3 years to write and 6 years of off and on research. It's about Moses Grandy, a slave who lived in this area in the early 1800's. In 1843, The Life of Moses Grandy was published - a narrative of his life in his "own" words. Since he narrated it to an abolitionist, it's hearsay evidence, I suppose. I've found plenty of evidence that his story is true, but even the truth can be "biased." I came across his story while researching the swamp for another novel and was surprised to learn none of my teacher friends, including those who are very much into black history month, had ever heard of him. Anyway the man's story is so fascinating I wanted the world to take notice of him. As it is, he's a very minor footnote in African American history.

Moses was born ca. 1888 in Camden County, N.C. His original master, William Grandy, died and left this slave to his son James, who was the same age as Moses (The two had been playmates.) Since James was a minor, and considered unfit to manage slaves, the state stepped in and put Moses out for hire by the year until James came of age. Moses had several "hired" masters, some cruel, some kind. When he went back to his master, an agreement was made for Moses to buy his freedom by hiring himself out. The price was $600.
To make a long story (135,000 words in my book) short, Moses was twice swindled out of his money and nearly lost it a third time. His wife was sold into slavery and he never saw her again. Finally, Moses obtained his freedom and went north, where he worked to make enough money to buy his family out of freedom.

I decided to use his story by fictionalizing it and using it to chronicle the history of the area. This was right after the constitution was signed and "every man was created equal," supposedly. So how did the practice of slavery continue? It's called social pressure. Culture, politics, religion, economics and other forces came into play. That's what the book is really about. I could have fictionalized his story without any research, if I just wanted to have a story to write.

I entered the novel "...and Remember that I Am a Man." in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel contest. At first it got rave reviews. But in the semi-finals, it got slammed. It was called appropriative and borderline plagiaristic and I was basically accused of writing the novel without any right to do so. Even though every source I used was named and all of it was in the public domain. Nothing was said about whether the novel or the writing was good or bad, just that I should not have "appropriated" Moses' story. The reviewer must have not read the final page, where I explained my goals pertaining to the novel.

I guess I'd better get used to it. My novel "The Prisoners of Gender," dealt with sexual issues by swapping the genders of two people who must count on each other and how they deal with their new personae. I had no idea it would happen, but the blurb for the book got posted on a transgender website. I was called a hack and someone else told me I should have written about cartesian dualism and other psychiatric buzzwords. I guess they thought I was writing about "transgender" issues.

Okay, now I'll get back to my formatting. The text is finished, time to work on the cover.

Just a note: A Chesapeake librarian is also blogging about history of the area. Betsy Fowler. I don't know her, but her blog is interesting. http://offtheshelf-betsy.blogspot.com/

Alien Aberrations

2010-12-28T04:55:00.000-08:00

If you like horror or science fiction, you might want to check out Alien Aberrations, now on sale at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and other booksellers. It contains my story GREETINGS, about a race of aliens who have sex with a handshake. It's from Grand Mal Press.

We've been snowed in since the day after Christmas. I tried to get my wife to work today in my 4 wheel drive Jeep, but we gave up after 5 miles. Even the main highway was awful, our street (which we have to travel for 4 miles) was a sheet of ice. We saw 4 cars in the ditch and plenty of tracks where other cars had been towed out.

The mystery of Lake Drummond

2010-12-26T09:52:00.000-08:00

Nice Christmas yesterday, a foot of snow today. I'm a bit of a history buff and I find the Dismal Swamp to be fascinating and little known.

For instance, Lake Drummond, in the middle of the swamp, is 1 of only 2 natural lakes in Virginia (The other being mysterious Mountain Lake, where they filmed dirty dancing, but that's a story for another day and some other blogger.) It was discovered (white man style) by a man named William Drummond, who became the governor of North Carolina, who was later executed by the governor of Virginia for supporting Bacon's Rebellion. (The first insurrection against British rule occurred in the swamp, Culpepper's Rebellion, but it's not widely known)

Scientists say the swamp was created during the last continental shift, but it was underwater back then. Eventually the Atlantic receded and it's now 20 miles inland or so. As for Lake Drummond, which is roughly circular in shape, some think it was created by a meteorite impact. Some argue it was created by a bog fire. Native American legend says a "fire bird" created the lake. I argue for the meteorite theory, there are several circular lakes in nearby North Carolina and the Chesapeake Bay itself was formed by a monstrous impact. The fact that the lake is higher than any land around here also points toward a meteor strike, earth thrown up by the impact would have mounded around the center. The lake then filled from underground springs.

George Washington surveyed the swamp, realized the topography and ordered the first ditch built (Washington Ditch) to float lumber out of the swamp. 9 ditches were eventually dug. Then Washington and others decided to build a canal between the Chesapeake Bay and the North Carolina sounds. Only two locks were needed, one at each end. When the canal was built, water ceased to drain into the eastern part of the swamp, which became dry enough for agriculture. (That's where I live.)

But that's more about the swamp, I'm writing about the lake itself. As far as I can determine, no one has ever studied core samples to try to figure out how the lake was created. (Deep, deep, deep core samples were needed to prove the Chesapeake Bay Meteorite.) I'm betting (and using as a premise for a novel I'm working on) that there was only a marshy area, until a meterorite struck, shattering the crust below and releasing freshwater springs. The newly created bowl held a reservoir of water that turned the marshy area into the great swamp of the modern era. Over the years, the detritus thrown up leveled off and the lake filled in to the shallow levels of today (max 6 ft.)

Lake Drummond ditch allowed tourists to visit the lake during the 1800s on day excursions from Norfolk. People would dip out coffee-colored lake water and drink it, considering it to be a healthy tonic. In fact, sailors used to journey to the lake and fill barrels for their voyages. Tannin in the water from the Juniper roots keep it fresh for much longer than normal water. In 1803, Irish poet Thomas Moore wrote "A Ballad: The Lake of the Dismal Swamp," about "The Lady of the Lake. Edgar Allen Poe also visited and some think his poem "The Lake" refers to Drummond.

Okay, now it's clear to you that I'm one of those obnoxious people who know way too much about things, I'll continue on about other mysteries and legends of the Great Dismal Swamp on another day.

Hawk attack!

2010-12-24T11:41:00.000-08:00

About a half hour after the last post, I looked out the back window and saw a large wing rise and fall on the other side of my smaller coop (you can see straight through the wire). It wasn't normal behavior and I soon realized a hawk had a chicken down. I ran out, calling to Diane. As soon as I was in the back yard, the hawk rose and settled in a tree just over the ditch on the edge of the yard.

To my surprise, this hawk had attacked a white Delaware rooster. The bird is fine, but his head is bloodied. The rest of the chickens were huddled in the corner of a stall, inside the stable. The hawk went farther away and perched in a tree, another hawk showed up minutes later and perched in another nearby tree. I fetched my telescope from the attic and managed to get a look at the bird, but its back was to me and I couldn't identify the species. I hadn't seen any predatory birds for several days and figured the chickens would be okay since I'm spending the day at home, but if I hadn't looked out by chance, that rooster would be a goner. So the book is wrong, hawks will attack full-grown chickens. Again, I'm unsure if the first attacker was hawk or eagle, but now I'm back to guessing hawk.

I'm off for the holidays, so I'm leaving the telescope focused on the "sentinel tree," the preferred vantage point of the hawks, since there's a clear view of the coop.

Reminds me of the old Foghorn Leghorn cartoons where Foghorn would always get the the little chicken hawk to attack the barnyard dawg instead of him. Anybody remember that little hawk's name?

James' birthday and kicking horses

2010-12-24T09:47:00.000-08:00

Today, Christmas Eve, is the birthday of James, our cocker spaniel who we inherited from our son.(translation: our son dumped his dog on us.) He's 2 years old today, so we had a mid-day birthday party with his best friend Sebastian (2 year old Golden retriever) and Candy (12 year old Golden). No cats received invitations, and Dickens (3 1/2 foot green Iguana) declined the invitation although he accepted a fruit cup in celebration of the event. Wendy's double-stack cheeseburgers were served and James received a sweater, which he will show off on our afternoon walk in the woods behind Cornland Park.

I've decided to share the story of "Dude," a horse given to Jackie by the daughter of a bee-keeper friend of mine when he sold his land and stable to Wal-mart and other developers and became a multi-millionaire. Dude's dam died when he was only a couple of days old, so he was raised by humans and never learned to be a horse. We knew when we accepted him that he'd kicked a woman in the gut and severely injured her, but Jackie was only planning to train Dude, then sell him.

Dude, being a people, loved to help me when I worked in the pasture or stable. If I used a manure fork, he tried to grab it. If I used a battery-drill in the stable, he would put his nose on it and "help." Then there was the time I was working on the pipe for the horse trough. He came up behind me and shoved me into the electric fence, which really zapped me since I was touching a water pipe. Angry, I threw an elbow into his ribs, not realizing he'd been shocked also. He turned around and let loose with both rear hooves, which I managed to duck.

You might think that would be the end of it, but he snuck up behind me and grabbed the instruction sheet for re-fitting the hydrant, spilling all the small nuts, washers I'd set down to keep straight. Then he high-tailed it, paper in his mouth. I never did find all the hardware and the water hydrant has never worked properly since.

When my sister and husband (who are not country folk) came into the pasture to see the horses, I could tell Dude was getting mad he wasn't getting enough attention. I knocked my brother in law out of the way just in time to keep him from being kicked. Unfortunately, I was kicked in the elbow. My arm was sore for days. He kicked me a couple of other times, also, but I always managed to get out of the way (mostly.)

Oh, let's not forget when my wife, Diane, decided to ride Dude. Going by the compost pile, he stepped on one of the wire tomato cages I keep there and took off. I heard a scream and ran around the house to see her lying on the ground, unconscious.

"That's it," I declared. "That horse has got to go." To which Diane answered, "Oh, but he's so cute." That phrase is why we've had up to 5 horses at a time, not to mention geese and turkeys (which are even meaner than Dude.)

Finally, when Jackie tried to mount him one day, he kicked her in the gut and put her in the emergency room. The horse had suddenly ceased being "cute" to Diane. To my surprise, a farmer up the street paid a couple hundred for the rotten critter, which I would gladly have given away. He was gone two days after kicking Jackie.

God, how I miss that horse. Now if I can only figure out a way to miss the three horses we have now.

Eagles and possums and hawks, oh my!

2010-12-23T12:11:00.000-08:00

I'm going to be blogging about my usually adventuresome life. Just watch, probably nothing of note will ever happen again. So what? I'm a writer, I'll bring in some past experiences.

Unfortunately, I tend to do things without thinking and get too involved in life. I think it all started in Catholic grade school when I got thrown out for refusing to pray. But that's a story for another time.

The recent frigid weather has got the animals on the move. Last week, I was out at dusk filling the horse trough when a commotion broke out behind me. I turned and, at first, thought a rooster was after one of the hens, just around the corner. But the rest of the chickens were squawking like crazy and feathers started flying. A hawk! I ran the 20 feet to the coop, planning to shove the hawk into the coop and slam the door. (Like I said, I do things without thinking. I have no idea what I expected to do with a live bird of prey.) Just as I got there, the bird flew up in a flurry of wings and was winging away without me getting a good look at it. But it had a white tail and a very large wingspan. I told the guys at work I had seen a very large hawk.

Saturday morning, when I went out to feed the horses and let the chickens out, I looked up to a dead tree just behind the pasture, where hawks often keep vigil. To my surprise, an enormous bald eagle was perched. I didn't let the chickens out, but went back for binoculars, just to be sure. No doubt about it. When I checked the camera, the batteries were dead. I decided not to try using the cell phone camera since it's new and I'm not used to it.

Staying beneath the trees along the ditch line, I walked to within 20 yards of the eagle, which was about 30 feet up. When I stepped out in the open, he (she?) spread his enormous wings as though to frighten me off. For about 5 seconds, we regarded each other, then he flew off. It was the same bird (I think) that tried to take the chicken earlier.

An hour later a large hawk (red-shouldered or red-tailed, I couldn't tell.) perched for a while and another hawk took up residence later on. I guess all the birds of prey are unusually hungry.

Two nights ago, I worked a bit of overtime and Diane fed the animals. She informed me that the chickens had taken in a boarder. Inside one of the nesting boxes was a small possum, huddled against the cold. Since possums eat eggs (I know from experience), I took a pitch fork and gently lifted it out. It waddled away into the ditch, about 10 feet away. The first time we had a possum visitor in the coop, back when the kids were fairly young, I put a stick beneath it and it grabbed on. For several minutes we had fun walking around with "possum-on-a-stick."

Last night, a hawk was there at dusk. I let the chickens out anyway, since I'd checked my bird-watching book and it says hawks can't take full-grown chickens. I saw it from the tack room window and then when I went back outside, it was gone. Not trusting it, I kept an eye out. 30 seconds later, it soared directly overhead (not sure of the species) then flew off into a nearby field, landing on the ground. I stayed out until the chickens had gone to roost, then locked them in. The way I figure it, a HUNGRY hawk might not be able to carry a chicken away, but could kill and eat it on the spot.

So that's my first blog. If nothing exciting happens tonight (and I'm not talking about indoors), I'll tell you about the bear in the front yard a few years back or maybe talk about my latest novel or maybe I'll just brag on how good-looking I am. I'm not used to blogging, so bear with me.