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Part 2 continued from Sept. 2000 issue |
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Hedda has never been one to pass up a chance to talk to a handsome fella, so I sashayed right on over to the fence he was leaning across, and tossing my head like only a Munchie can do, I introduced myself and told him why my little hooves had landed next to his pasture. As he looked me over, he said in a deep velvety voice, " Miss Hedda, You've come to the right place for dirt. You might even say I know all the dirt around these parts cause no one has been here longer than Old Thunder here , and that includes that blathering, nervous poor excuse for a buck peeking at you around the corner of the barn. Good 'ole Billy Bubba from the mountains of Tennessee. He's one of crazy fainting goats. Why old man Calhoun got him is beyond me! Matter of fact, Missy, just last fall, that old boy was the center of a big ruckus himself. Shoot, he almost got old man Calhoun killed, and his Mrs. arrested for assault. Bet your fans would like to hear that one!" Hedda felt her little pulse start to race as it always does when she senses a big story on the hoof. " Tell me more," I said as I leaned closer to the fence. " Billy Bubba has been nothin' but trouble ever since old Calhoun got him from some Tennessee mountain folks. Course, those folks up there believe in all sorts of goings on, and that dumb buck is no different. Most superstitious scardy cat I have ever known, " Thunder said , shaking his head. "All those legends about goat suckers and things that go bump in the night. You say boo to Billy Bubba and he's fall over in a dead faint. Hedda tingled from her itty bitty ears to her tail, this was getting good! "It all stated, " Thunder went on, on what folks around here call All Saints Eve. Calhoun never came outta the house after dark on that night. Told the Mrs. that no durn chupacabras or werewolves was gonna get him, no sir, not old Calhoun. That night the air was so chilly you could see your breath." Thunder chuckled. "The wind was moanin’ through the pines, making the door on the hay mow creak as it swung to and fro. To top it off, the moon was casting' this silvery light all over everything. Every now and then, it would slip behind a cloud, and everything would go pitch black. It sure didn't help things any, that the coyotes were running rabbits, yipping like demons was chasing' them. All in all, it was one eerie night. Everyone was hiding' in the barn because of all Calhoun's carrying on about chupacabras and werewolves at milking time. Then Bubba, he has to go and ask that Nubian buck over there called Rico Suave, what a chupacabras was. Rico can't stand Bubba, so he was more than happy to not only explain, but what would happen to any goat it found out of the barn that night. When Bubba heard that, he went all stiff and, plop! He fell right over. When he come to, everyone else was settled in for the night, every one but me, that is. Bubba didn't see me, so I guess he figured that this would be a good time to slip into the barn and raid Calhoun's molasses barrel. Last thing I saw of him for a little while was that white tail slipping through the barn door, quiet as a mouse. I was getting' me a sip of water at the trough there, when I heard the Mrs.' voice carrying on the wind. She was telling Calhoun that she wanted the goose feathers hanging in the barn, and Calhoun was yelling right back at her that she was crazy, no way he was going out of that house that night! It didn't take long to see who won, cause I heard the back porch door slam, and the old man yelling how the Mrs. didn't care if he got attacked by werewolves or not. The Mrs. yelled right back that she didn't care if if he had to fight off 5 dozen chupacabras and a pack of werewolves, he better not come back without them feathers! Then, here comes Calhoun at a dead run towards the barn, one hand holding a big, ole, red hanky wringing wet with the sweat he was wiping off his face, and the other one gripping his shotgun. Every few feet, he would stop and look around, his eyes big as saucers, like he expected to be snatched any second. I was praying that no one cough up their cud, cause if they did, it would have been the last time they coughed up their cud, " Thunder said, laughing. "Myself, I slipped around back of the barn where I could peak through some cracks and see if I could get Bubba's attention before Calhoun hit the barn. But that goof ball was so busy sticking one hoof and then the other into that big barrel of molasses, he couldn't hear me for all his slurping'. Then Calhoun threw the barn doors open wide, and Bubba knew he was had. He knew Calhoun would shoot him if he caught him in the molasses. Problem was, Hedda, there was no where for him to hide except behind the barrel. Just then the moon slipped behind a cloud, and not being able to see, that poor fool miscalculated, and landed right head first in the barrel. All you could see was hind legs and hooves wiggling’ in the air. HAHAHA! Funniest thing I ever saw ... almost. Until I saw what happened next. When the barn went dark, Calhoun had started to turn on the flashlight that he had, until he heard the all the commotion that Bubba was causing. He just froze, the flashlight dropping out of his hands, glass tinkling in the dark barn. Where Calhoun was standing was just enough light, what with the moon coming back out, that I could see him looking around all wild eyed. Thank goodness, Bubba used his head for a change and stayed as quiet as he could. When Calhoun didn't hear any more ruckus, he picked up the light and tried to turn it on, but it was broken. However, the moonlight was beginning to shine through the cracks in the barn roof, just enough that he could see those dang feathers hanging’ from the rafter in the middle of the barn. Real quiet like, Calhoun starts to tiptoe over to the feathers. It was real easy for me to see his knees knocking together and his eyes were as big as milk filters. Step by tiptoe step, he finally made it to the middle of the barn, and tried to reach the bag that the feathers were in. But, they were just a little bit higher than he could reach. Muttering beneath his breath about how the Mrs. could care less what happened to him, he leaned his shotgun against a beam, and started to drag a bale of hay across the barn. By standing on it, he could just reach the knotted rope that was tied over the rafter and onto the bag. He was so intent in tugging on the rope, he didn't realize that the was standing right on the edge of the hay bale. Next thing you know, he starts to fall odd the bale, arms flapping like wings, and landed against the pole his shotgun was leaned against. BOOM! Bird shot went everywhere, including in the barrel where Bubba was holding his breath. Hedda, Bubba come out up outta that barrel like he was shot, which was true in more ways than one. Letting out with a terrified, painful bleat, he fell outta the barrel and landed with a crash on the floor. He had enough, and the only thing on his mind was to get outta that barn before Calhoun shot him again! Standing right in Bubba's way was Calhoun, still shaking' his head to clear it from that loud shotgun boast in his ear. Clamoring to his feet, he spun around to see what kind of demon had screamed in the darkness of the barn. What he saw turned him pale white and close to fainting. All black, the creature in front of him with bulging red eyes and some kind of black goo bubbling from his flaring nostrils. That was all she wrote, Hedda, Calhoun spun around around to hightail it outta there, but got all tangled up in the rope he had yanked down from the rafters. Screaming hysterically, he yanked at the rope tangled around his feet, and the bag of feathers ripped open. Down they swirled in the wind blowing through the barn ... and right onto Bubba. The feathers stuck to him like glue, covering even his eyes. Pawing to clear them, he let out another terrified beller and started moving' on out. All Calhoun saw was this bulging, red eyed, white thing with black goo bubbling out all over him, he saw no feet, he saw no legs. All he saw was what had to be the demon chupacabras he feared! Before you could say feeding time, he had snatched up that shotgun and was pumping shells into it like there was no tomorrow. He took aim at that horrible, bellering apparition bearing’ down on him and with hair standing on end, he tried to pull the trigger. It was right at that time, that Bubba smacked right into him and knocked him flat, gun flying through the air before it came down with a big KABOOM! Now that was the least of Calhoun's problems, the creature had landed on him and was tap dancing all over his head. Calhoun let out with a bloodcurdling scream and the creature flew off his head and headed for the door, bellering like a banshee. Calhoun jumped up, snatching up his shotgun again, and laid chase. Now he was mad, and screaming at the top of his lungs, that no goat sucker was gonna attack Mr. Thomas P. Calhoun and get away with it, he laid chase! Poor Bubba, his hooves was barely touching’ the ground as he flew up the path towards the main house, feathers flying’ right and left and old man Calhoun a whooping’ and a hollering’ right behind him. Neither one noticed that darn hoot owl siting on a tree branch watching them. Deciding that this was his chance to pay back Calhoun for trying to shoot him, he let out with a bone chilling screech and took out after both of them! That was a sight to see. Bubba bellering at the top of his lungs, just knowing Calhoun was gonna kill him for getting into the molasses. Calhoun was hot on his trail, determined to kill the monster in front of him. Every few steps, he would he would fumble another two shells into the barrel and blast the dark night in front of him. And that hoot owl, he would swoop down right next to Calhoun's head and let out another shriek. |
Bubba, feathers a flying', Calhoun a shooting' and that owl a shrieking' hit the yard right at the same time Mrs. Calhoun flew out the door to see what was going on. With most all of the feathers gone off of him, all the Mrs. saw , besides that darn owl, was Calhoun shooting at her favorite goat. Grabbing a big stick she kept right outside the door, away she went, whacking Calhoun every chance she could get. Finally, Calhoun had enough lumps on his head, that he threw his gun off to the side where ti boomed again! Last thing that screech owl saw as he flew after Bubba, was the Mrs. putting even more knots on old man Calhoun, and old man Calhoun and whooping and a hollering for her to quit it, he was just trying to kill a goat sucker. Goat sucker, my foot, shouted the Mrs. and knocked him again. Well, Calhoun, having enough of his head being banged on, headed across the yard and into the outhouse, pushing the door behind him. A night in the outhouse seemed like heaven compared to facing the wrath of his wife. Trouble was, he wasn't alone. And it wasn't but a second before he felt hot breath blowing on his neck, and turned his head to see the red eyed monster with a huge appendage growing out of his head. The appendage took one look at Calhoun, and let out with another screech from the depths of the Hades, and Calhoun not only threw open the door and took off down the path, he ran right over the Mrs. in the process. Throwing himself behind a pile of firewood, he held his breath until the strange creature disappeared across the pasture. Later that night, as it poured down a miserable cold rain, he snuck into the basement and found himself a safe place to sleep until the Mrs. calmed down. As for Bubba, he stayed hiding in the woods until enough rain fell on him to wash off most of the molasses and unstick the hoot owl that was stuck on his head. He was none too sorry either, cause that hoot owl had not taken lightly being stuck to the head of this wild creature. Let's just say that for every lump Calhoun had on his head, Bubba suffered just as many. When the rain finally freed him, the owl flew back toward the house, taking up his vigilance outside Calhoun's bedroom window. And Bubba, he wobbled back to the barn on shaking legs, and slipped into his pen. He never said a word about what had happened to any of us, but Old Thunder here knew... and now, Miss Hedda, you do too. " So, there you are, darlings.... the tale of Hoot N Holler. Admit it, admit it! Hedda has delivered the goods again. But, it’s time for me to sign off until next time, so remember, watch out for the goat berries in the water pail. Ta! Ta! Copyright Delores Gerst & Anita Gilley
Caprine Poetry The Little Breeder I'm just a little breeder that you really don't know I'm just a little breeder who's never been to a show.
You will never hear me say an unkind word, When I find out that I have been Taken to the cleaners By those I thought were friends.
And then, by chance, I hear the rumors, >From those both far and near About those poor ole goats of mine So starved .. with death real near
I heard about these rumors People thought they might be true So they didn't buy my animals because of that, I suppose ... would you?
Then, by chance, someone decided to visit my terrible farm and found themselves saying I wish I could afford such luxury like that new barn!
Then, they walked to the pasture to see for themselves the weak and feeble animals in such ill health.
They looked and looked, but couldn't find them, they looked in every stall and in the tall brush to see if I had hid them all.
They demanded to see their papers, " Do you have them at all?" I had heard from almost everyone that you bought them from the auction hall
I invited them in for coffee and pulled out all the pedigrees They took a drink and sprayed it out Then realized I wasn't so naive
Look at those names, you have all the best, that anyone can buy, Alpha-Centauri, Kismet, Lotus Lady, Cold Comfort even some Cam's Menagerie Manzanita, Longman's and Homestead Names that make up a GCH's history
I watched their face, and even smiled a little " I know why you came. You have heard all those rumors But I thank you for comin' just the same."
"It's been a long time for me, since any friends have dropped by, but,I'm not much for holdin' a grudge you see,
You wanta start over, no, don't cry, Just let those awful rumors die"
So, dear friends, can you see that rumors are really nothing more than the ramblings of maybe someone jealous of what's behind my barn door.
Think it can't happen to you? Think popularity can't change your view? Just think twice and try to always be nice, 'cause this little breeder could have been you.
(Unknown)
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