Eleanor's Christmas

If your ratty gets all scatty 'cos his coat is getting matty
And he's acting kinda batty now he doesn't look so natty
If he starts to get all chatty and to voice pratty demands
Then beware! You've got a bratty tatty ratty on your hands. Dr Suess

I first must add my disclaimer. .

I did not buy Eleanor.I did not sneak Eleanor into the house like I did with Norman the pig and several dozen other critters.

Yes maybe I gave Jordan a gift card to a local pet store, and yes maybe I said something about rats are much more intelligent compared to a Hamster."

And my finale piece of evidence, Jeanne was with us at the pet store when Jordan picked out Eleanor.

So if it pleases the court' "I did not bring home a pet rat."

I think this was a great choice that Jordan made, and if she works with Eleanor and trains her, she will learn something very special. She also might get a head start on a psychology project for College.

I posted a video below from Wofford College.
Psychology students spent a semester training their rats to play Basketball

Tommy went a different direction when he received a fish tank and gift card from Santa. He doesn't appreciate the intelligence and loyalty of a pet rat. He will let Jordan put Eleanor on his shoulder, but as soon as Eleanor moves, he will, with a very concerned for his own safety tone in his voice say, "OK GET IT OFF ME NOW" so he chose some gold fish and accessories for his tank.


I personally lobbied for a Corn Snake for Christmas. I should say I begged for a pet snake, and when that wasn't working I resorted to the fine art of sympathy with a dash of quilt.

This is how it works. With a big smile on my face, I would enthusiastically say to Tommy and Jordan,
"I know you guys got me a snake for Christmas, but you must have hid it very well, I hope it is warm enough wherever you hid him, I can hardly wait to see him on Christmas morning. what should we name him?"

I thought I out smarted them both and that the quilt would encourage them to bug Jeanne enough and I would get my new snake.

Never try to outsmart a fifth grader.

Jordan took some socks and made me a snake for Christmas.


Keeping with our Christmas morning tradition, before we could open presents, we ventured out to the river and emptied a fifty pound bag of corn for our friends.





Ventured stayed for the Annual Christmas Morning Feast, but left later in the day. We are thrilled when he visits and look forward to his return.

Happy Holidays To All

Rat Basketball at Wofford College

Home For The Holidays

"Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays
'Cause no matter how far away you roam
If you want to be happy in a million ways
For the holidays you can't beat home, sweet home"

You can not beat those words written by ROBERT ALLEN & AL STILLMAN.
How sad it must be for anyone not to have the desire to be Home with family and friends for the Holidays. How sad it must be to want to be Home but circumstances prohibit the joyous occasion.
I love being "Home Sweet Home".


I wondered if it could be true. I wondered if among this flock of Canada Geese did our beloved Venture really return home for the holidays?

This past fall I often thought of Venture our little Canada Goose we raised after being abandoned on Peg and Willie's driveway a few years back.
This past Spring Venture left home for the first time and started his own family, and from time to time he would bring his family back for a visit.

It is a dangerous world out there for a flock of Canada Geese and I worried when far off in the distance, perhaps as far as Eagleville Lake, I would hear the sound of shotguns blasting away, followed by the sounds of Geese taking flight. I often worried that Venture was among the targets.

This morning of Christmas Eve we received a awesome gift when Venture returned with his family and friends for the holidays.

One may think that it is impossible to identify one goose from another, but I am positive that this bird that led the way up the trail and onto our driveway was our friend Venture.


Welcome Home Venture, and remeber, no matter how far away you roam, you and your family are always welcome here.

It's All About The Language

It all has to start somewhere, and here instead of digging into an empty pocket to purchase a cord or five of firewood, we cut our own.

It feels that most of my spare time these days is spent cutting firewood for the wood stove. Providing a good portion of our own heat has some challenges, but for the most part it is extremely rewarding.

I get a strong sense of accomplishment from taking a downed tree and turning it into nice little chunks for the woodstove.
I think it is some type of manly thing. Maybe it has something to do with the fresh air, the lifting of muscle building heavy logs. Maybe it has something to do with feeling so powerful when you swing down that heavy steel maul and that piece of maple or cherry splits in half. Maybe it is some type of primitive adrenalin that might make me think something like " me man, me provide heat for house, you women, you cook squirrel stew on fire".

The good news is I am not and never been that dumb to utter something like that here. I am 99.9% sure the response would be something like, " me women, me boss, me move you to basement".

So I need to tell a little story here, because after a few days, or a few weeks, I found some humor in it.
It was a Saturday or Sunday and I was out by the driveway splitting firewood. Jeanne and the kids were outside doing something, I think maybe stringing the 2000 Christmas lights on the front porch.

After hauling some large logs from the nearby woods, I stacked them in a wall like pile near my spiting block. I pounded a old fence post deep into the ground to prevent my logs from rolling away while I took my time splitting them.
I was moving along at a very good pace when I bent down to pick up a log and slammed my forehead square into that fence post that some knucklehead pounded into the ground, exactly where I was going to bend down.

The pain was intense and thankfully it took my voice away. I never ever use language in front of the kids that they can not repeat anywhere they go.

I thought Jeanne was using a amplified bullhorn when she yelled what did you do are you ok, all I could do was keep one hand on my forehead because I was sure the last of the brain cells I had left were about drop into the muddy ground. My other hand stretched out toward the noise as if to say, "HALT DO NOT SPEAK TO ME". I was afraid if my mouth opened the burning pain shooting through my head would force me to scream out a long list of vulgar regrettable words.

Then Jordan yelled,"are you alright", again up goes my hand as if to say. "HALT DON"T COME NEAR ME BECAUSE I MIGHT BLAME YOU FOR SOMETHING YOU HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH".

With much concern in thier voices, Jeanne and Jordan continued to ask me if I was ok and all I could do is raise my hand up and without saying anything, I was begging them to stop.

I was sure if I could only utter some of those special words, the pain might subside a bit, but I gathered up all the strength I could, and held onto my head while I staggered around waiting to pass out from this horrible pain.

Then it was Tommy's turn to show his deep concern, Tommy muttered, "you didn't focus".

And Then There Were Five

I have a few different theories, but because we are talking about a 20-30lb bird,that spends most of their time in the water, I am leaning away from a wild predator, and more toward a different type of predator.

With the help of Uncle Swamp the Swan, our 2 White geese hatched five fluffy little goslings this past Spring.Over the coarse of the Summer, they grew into a beautiful flock, and with Swamp leading the way, it was truly a very pretty sight watching them navigate the river.

Just before Thanksgiving 2 of our Geese disappeared and I believe it was the act of a despicable, poor excuse for a human. I can't blame this on hunters, because a "True" hunter has much higher ethics then this person or persons possess.

So now we are down to 5 White Geese, 11 grey geese, a Swan, and we cannot forget Wilbur.

Wilbur is a brother to our other geese, but because we hatched him in a incubator and raised him for the first few months in the house, he does not know he is a goose. Like Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, all the other geese refuse to socialize with him and he only ventured out onto the river once, and did not appear to enjoy the experience.


Being rejected by his fellow geese has not prevented Wilbur from making his own unique friends.

Chances are good if you see Bob the turkey, you will find Wilbur. Bob and Wilbur have become the best of buds and whenever I call Bob, it is guaranteed that Wilbur will come a running with him. They both sleep in the hen house, and can often be seen going for a stroll up the road as they chat about current events.


Below is from this past spring when Moma and Papa Goose took the babies to the river for the first time.

Happy Geese.

Let It Be "Norman"

This most definitely is one of those,"did you ever in a million years imagine?"

I lost count on the number of times I could or did ask that question to Jeanne. Maybe it was when a goat was living in her mud room, or the snake I keep on her dresser on her side of the room, maybe it is the turkeys hatched in her dining room, or the geese and ducks swimming in her bathtub. It also could be said about living on a ark, that from time to time is surrounded by water.

I would venture to guess this is the granddaddy of them all.
"Did you ever in a million years, believe you would ever have a pet pig named Norman in your kitchen?"

Not only did I survive any wrath for bringing home a pet pig, I really think Jeanne is starting to bond with him.
I am not sure if we have a new issue or problem, but when I am at work or gone from our place any length of time, I think about how much I want to come home to see Norman.

We all came up with different names. Because we already have a goose named Wilbur, we couldn't have two Wilburs. So Jordan wanted Pumba or Babe, Tommy wanted Darth Vader, I wanted Norman, and Jeanne was quickly shot down when she suggested naming our beloved pig,"Christmas Dinner". Tommy made the finale choice, and he picked Norman.

Norman is free to roam the house, and as he gets acclimated to all the daily commotion, his personality is really starting to come out.

How could you not love that face?

So now I wonder, what would happen if Jeanne came home and found a Miniature Donkey or two in her living room?
I think I won't push my luck, yet.