not those girls, Stacy and Clinton. Though, were I to write about my girls today, I'd tell everyone I'd prefer Planned Parenthood's help over Susan G. Komen's if I needed to screen them for cancer. But don't fret, those girls are fine--I had them grammed a few months ago and according to the radiologist, they looked normal. Normal in a non-surgically enhanced way. Normal-normal, not Hollywood normal.
But I digress.
I want to tell you about the girls. A few months ago Mr. D bought a couple dozen pheasants to plant on our land. A couple weeks ago I began seeing tracks in the snow--all around the house, on the front porch, behind Jax's kennel, through the fence and out the other side. Thanks to my extensive tracking experience, I knew the tracks were pheasant, not turkey or morning dove, grouse or goldfinch. And the tracks were side-by-side--two pheasants were strolling around our property. A couple days later I started to see them quite regularly:
Hanging out beneath the bird feeder, eating whatever the cardinals, jays, sparrows and wrens knocked down. These two dames are back there all the time. Once in a while Jax passes by and they notice him (who can't--big black shaggy beast on white snow)--they eyeball him and take a few steps in the opposite direction.
What kills us is that Jax has never gone after them. Not sure if he sees them (his eyesight isn't what it could be--if I had a buck for every time he came running towards me and slammed into my legs...) or if they're just not interesting to him. But he ignores them and these two broads waddle around our yard, park beneath the feeder and I imagine their chatter. In my mind the two girls have British accents (no reason for this--they're birds raised on a pheasant farm twenty miles north) and they say things like, "You know, love, I'd sure enjoy a nice pile of cracked corn." "Did you see what he was wearing?" "Lovely day, isn't it? Let's take a stroll past the propane tank." "That cardinal--flitting about all day while his wife has to stay home and watch the nest. What a rogue!"
I tell you, nature is so entertaining.
And today it's sunny, so the groundhog saw his shadow. Which means 6 more weeks of winter as opposed to 6 more weeks until spring. You can see from the photos above how our winter has been--mild, dry and warm. Just melting snow clumps and temps in the high 30's all weekend. Under these circumstances, I think I can make it 6 more weeks.
In other news, I bought beer for Sunday's game. Since the Packers choked, I'm cheering for the Giants. My rationale is simple: I cannot stand Tom Brady, I think Peyton Manning is awesome and little brother Eli takes after him, the Giants played with heart and their defense has been phenomenal in the last few games. I think they're going to bring it Sunday.
Spill it, reader. Who will you root for during the SuperBowl?