Honey, Get your gun

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This week is one for the record books. My knight in shining armor came home from a business trip, very tired. Planes, trains , taxi and time zone change, add up to a lot of fun for a 6′ 6″ person. He was very happy to return home.

After day one of being home, he realized that he had acquired a contagion ‘of sorts’. Our house rule states,  the sick spouse has to move to ‘the cave’. He sadly grabbed his essentials and moved upstairs.

I tried to aid as much as possible to ease the pain. I brought him meals. I made him homemade soup and hot tea with honey. I forced vitamins and my version of an essential oil pill that I concocted using my ‘potions’.

Shrimp. Sausage and Okra Gumbo served with scoop of Potato Salad
Shrimp. Sausage and Okra Gumbo served with scoop of Potato Salad

Luckily, I had to go to my day job!

After day five of time served in the cave, my Man moved back to our bedroom. He was not 100% but getting better. I was happy. I was in denial. After the return of the “contagion host”, we fell into our normal routine. I was blissfully unaware of my impending doom. Then, he kissed me.

I am sure that you know how the story ends. If I don’t continue, you’ll miss the “Honey, Get Your Gun” story.

After the proper incubation period, my throat was sore. Once the recognition kicked in, I immediately went looking for the “contagion host”. I was not happy. He grabbed his essentials and moved back to  the cave, otherwise known as “contamination central”.

I won’t go into the gory details of my ailments.  I am grateful to experience good health normally. I feel for those that suffer with ongoing health issues. I know that it must take a toll on the body, mind and soul. Not to mention, the price that their loved ones deal with every day.

After five days of dealing with everything associated with becoming the host contagion, I was desperate, to be well. In addition to everything else, the coughing woke me up very, very early. (3-ish) I spent an hour,  dealing with the cough, reading and catching up on instagram.

I heard a ruckus noise, in the distance. I listened to find what it was and then realized that it was my chickens. I checked the time. It was too early for the normal “cock-a-doodle-do”. I jumped up and ran out the back door to get a better reading on the  peep racket. Everyone in the chicken condo and penthouse were crowing and clucking to beat the band.

View out back at sunrise
View out back at sunrise

I ran upstairs to enter the “contagion zone”. I called out to my husband. He didn’t answer. I raised my voice and called out again. He didn’t answer. I knocked on the door and said, “Honey, get your Gun!”

I am pretty sure that is on the top 10 “list of things that you don’t want to hear from your wife in the middle of the night”.

Once I realized that he was up and moving, I hurried downstairs to listen again. I went outside on the porch. The Peeps were “up in arms about something”. We had already lost one hen about two months ago to a predator that managed to wiggle in and out of the coop.

The chicken condo on a happy day

The ruckus in the coop was still going on. I went to the edge of the porch and turned on the lights. I clapped loudly and yelled something that I can’t remember now. Sorry, neighbors!

I ran inside to get a pair of flip-flops and a flashlight. As I was heading out, my husband was coming out of the house in his pj’s, carrying a shotgun and barefoot. Did I mention, it was dark outside?

I asked him if he was going outside barefoot and he replied “Yes!”. Our house is on five acres and the chicken condo is away from the house. I carried the industrial flashlight and headed for the coop. My Man was barefoot and toting a shotgun. We may need a pair of night vision goggles.

This is exactly, when I would expect a news crew to show up and photograph a “southerner”. Luckily, this did not happen.

The Peeps were making a ton of racket. Not the normal, “Hey, look I’m going to lay an egg”. My man was checking the perimeter. I moved beside him with the flashlight. Once the Peeps realized that we were there, they went quiet almost instantly. This too, is not normal peep behavior.

The peeps typically ignore us when they are all a-chatter. Unless, I am bringing snacks, then I am the focus of their attention. Well, not really me, it’s the snacks that they’re after. I am just the dealer.

We completed, on our patrol of the perimeter. We were unable to find anything. I flashed the Peeps with the light, and didn’t see anything but chickens.  I decided to go search the inside of the coop. My barefoot husband, wisely stayed outside the coop.

As I started to open the door, the same door where a snake dropped down before, I paused . “Come in the coop, if you  hear me scream” I replied , as I entered.  I searched the coop with the light but was unable to find a predator. I said goodnight to my Peeps and headed back inside. My Man headed back to bed.

From the sound of the ruckus, I was fully ready to witness a tragedy in my coop. I am grateful to whatever, scared off the predator. My peeps were safe. The snake didn’t fall on my head. I headed back to bed. It was going, to be a good day.

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Author: Mimi

I have a love affair with food, entertaining, travel and music. This site is a vehicle for me to share my journey of food. Traveling allows exposure to all types of cooking. I have learned to cook by being hungry, curious and willing to fail. Food is another form of art and creative expression.
Copyright 2016 by Mimi

3 thoughts on “Honey, Get your gun”

    1. Thank you. I was on the edge as well. I love my Peeps. There is a den of coyotes in Fairhope. Based on the ruckus, I am pretty sure that they were circling the coop looking for a way in. My neighbors were kind enough to bring their Beautiful German Shepards and set up Tinkle Patrol.

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