i'm easy...

The late afternoon sun was spent replanting three Loblolly Pines in the backyard. Digging the trees out was fairly straightforward...soft dirt, small trees...easy as the 75* northerly breeze keeping the sweat at bay... the re-plant...well, its been some time since we've had a good soaker blow through, so the clay was baked harder than the rim around a pan of overcooked brownies. My hopes are that we won't lose these hearty little trees...they've shown alot of moxie this Spring.

When the holes were dug i slid through the second and third strands of bob wahr to procure me some good old Angus rendered fertilizer au natural...fantastic stuff that...

So i'm out there with my trusty hoe and bucket and a movement catches my eye...was that a mouse? There! Oh...wow! One hardly ever sees these anymore! Laying there as flat and quiet as possible was a beautiful lone copper colored horny toad.

I remember walking the pasture in my childhood and seeing these all the time...Seems they are becoming more and more scarce. I've even heard rumors that they may be moved to the endangered list. With that in mind, i chased it a few steps, gently scooping it up and placing it in the bucket. I selected a few more dried fertilome keepsakes and precariously slipped back through the nettlesome steel.

The Royals, giggling under the shadow of the hackberry where i have just this weekend hung a single strand rope swing that takes them to an appreciable 12 feet off the ground at the top of the arc, come racing to my call. It must've been the tone of my voice, they knew some odd treasure was in that bucket.



"Oooh Daddy, what IS IT?



"Well, its a horny toad..."



"Will it bite?"



"No, baby, they don't bite"



"What are those stickery things?"



"Just its horns."



"Can we pet it?"



"If you want, but be very gentle and don't hurt it."



"Ooooh it feels stickery too!" "Yeah, stickery..." "What do we name her?"



"Well we can't keep it, it belongs in the field, they eat bugs..."



"Oh, well...that's good!" "OK Daddy, but can we call her Sally?"



"Sure, you can call her Sally."


"Hey Mama! Come look at the pointy toad! Do you wanna pet it?"


They were very careful not too pull a leg too hard or squeeze their new captive too tightly. Gently inspecting it like good little herpetologists should for a few more minutes.



"Well, why don't you take Sally down to the pasture and let her go."



"OK Daddy, can i do it?"



"Yes, but make sure that you let her go and don't throw her into the pasture."



"OK, Daddy, i'll be careful." So, HRHTDP deftly scoops up the bewildered prisoner and walks over to the fence, talking gently to the small libertine. She calmly lays it in the flattened grass and off it scurries to sweet sovereignty.



"There she goes...bye Sally!"



"Oh Daddy, LOOK, the turkeys!" As four gobblers were making their way into the line of blackjacks across the field, occasionally displaying full plumage to one another. I cluck at them, and they all immediately raise their heads and fire back a unisoned reply. The girls giggle in shocked amusement.



With the trees all installed in their respective new homes, i sit back on the back porch and watch the Royals take a few last oscillations on the rope swing with a couple more hens passing in the distance and the toms gurgling in the underbrush behind them.



The wind whispers through the chimes and the night sounds begin... the Common Nighthawk stoops and banks above, calling to the coming darkness... and far off... the Chuck-a-Wills Widow strikes up a placid refrain, each new call ever nearing until they softly blend the chorus into the Summer Nocturne...

that's why i'm easy...easy like Sunday evenin'...