Ernest gets a banana

I heard the recognizable foot steps scurry to the studio's front door. Then a brief knock, rap-rap. It was always two raps, and I was told if it was ever more than two raps I would know it was an imposter. But two raps meant it was The Head Troll.

A note slipped under the door, and it simply stated:

Need a banana for Ernest

Well, since this seemed harmless, I started to the kitchen where it so happened I had just brought home new bananas. I returned with a yellow fruit for The Head Troll and watched her disappear to the barnyard.

I got on with my work, but another two raps came shortly after. Another note slipped under the door:

Can you press Earnest's dress shorts for him?

I peered outside the door and the goat stood holding Earnest's linen shorts.

Of course I knew something was up, so after ironing the shorts, investigated.

I have told the animals there is no smoking of any kind on this land. But a first time father needs something to mark the occasion of his new litter, and if you can't smoke a cigar, may as well hold a banana in your mouth for a bit. All morning, Earnest has been pressed up against the paddock that holds Doris, who is waiting to piglet. Some 15 feet away, he can see the mother of his new children, Pearly June. It is so like him to dress up for the occasion and look his best for the mothers. Earnest is a true gentleman.

An hour later I found a banana peel and Earnest was once again naked, sunning in wet dirt.

Pino's pre surgery state of mind

Like any sensitive creature, I've told Pino little of what the exact procedure will be on Thursday. I simply told him it would be all right, it would help him be comfortable in the long run.

"But aren't we going to write "left" and "right" on this feet, so the vet knows not to cut them off?" asked Paco, the resident worrier.

He has asked me this several times, after seeing it in some movie or 2020 episode where a surgeon accidentally cuts off a foot instead of an arm or something.

Just as before, I answered professionally and calmly-that is what helps Paco the most in his worry.

"I think the vet will recognize his feet, Paco. She will be working on his down unders."

"Hope her hands are steady," I heard the The Head Troll say as she stormed by on her way to the lower paddock.

"They are!" I yelled after her, wanting to keep Pino calm.

Donkeys are stoic creatures. But when I lead him to a different area, without his mates, I can hear Pino's little mind at work,

"Hmmm, some thing's up, something is definitely a comin' my way."

My job is to provide a setting for both vet and donkey that will help everything go smoothly.

As I walked away from the donks today I heard Paco say,

"It can't be any worse than when they de-berried you," reminding Pino of his castration some seen years ago.

Great, I thought, he had to bring that up. I witnessed the entire thing and it was quite the sight. Not for dinner talk. The worst part as the caretaker for me is watching a bigger animal try to come out of the sleeping anesthetic. They try so hard to get up and it takes some time for them to make it and stay up. They just are very vulnerable at that time and while it can be amusing to watch their clumsy maneuvers, you feel empathy for them.

As I left the paddock, I looked back to see little Pino sitting on the ground, writing something on his down under area. Paco was reciting the proper spelling,

"Don't cut here, please. Thank you."

The turtle is given land

It was about 30 feet from the front gate, off to the side of the gravel county road - rural but frequented by speeding trucks and ignorants up the dead end.

"Are you lost? This seems out of place for your kind?" I asked the turtle.

"Not sure," the turtle responded, its head barely out of his 6" shell.

"You'll die a bad death out here. There's no water either. Come to Apifera with me," I said and before it could respond I'd picked it up and he tucked his head and appendages in its little home. It was the most polite turtle I'd met and when we entered the Apifera gates I had many good choices where to rehome the fine turtle.

"Are you a girl?" I asked, fearing I might be taking it from eggs. It didn't answer. Perhaps that is a question turtles find offensive. They do after all spend a lot of time in a shell, so announcing what gender they are might feel invasive and dangerous.

"It's so convenient to have a portable house," I said. "I will put you here, near the marsh, far from the main road so if you wander you will still be on Apifera land."

Turtle sat there for some time and finally a head poked out.

"Marsh front, very nice," she said. I say 'she' here because I really sensed a feminine essence about her tone.

I haven't seen her since, but it sure was nice holding a turtle again. I'd had so many nice days as a child amongst the turtles in the Minnesota marshes.

Memory on a sheep's back

Snow clusters in herds on the backs of my sheep. I drift back to a walk long ago with my father. As a pine branch waves to greet us, flakes fall and herd on his wool coat clinging to life, only to melt one by one.

A very short story: Long ago but now

They lived together long ago, the three of them. It was in the North, way North where there wasn't land, just sky or what we call sky today.

The chicken never left her arms and she chose not to lay eggs.

They spent generations together in the North sitting on leaves, only needing the nourishment of the air. But wind blew them South over the years, encouraging the leaves to grow roots and the water appealed to the woman, chicken and donkey.

Now the chicken lays eggs. The donkey is still blue under certain atmospheric conditions, a detail the woman never fails to notice.

The Lonely Red Ball: a love story of sorts

Once there was a lonely red ball. She had no idea what she was suppose to do all day. She rolled around a bit looking for other balls, but never found one. She rolled out to the road hoping to find a round rock, but they were all pointy and uninterested in her red roundness.

"I shall just deflate into nothing, purposeless," she sighed.
"Wait, what is this in the distance?"

She felt herself being lifted, the air blowing the sand off her body as she flew through up high and landed abruptly on soft grass.

As she settled into a divet of turf, she saw his face for the first time - big, brown eyes, a smile of red tongue, and ears flapping as he shook off energy.

From that day on, she was never lonely again and her precise purpose was very clear to her.

Two plus more

Inspired by yesterday's ride on Boone up to the old cemetery...

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

His left ear twitched towards her, the right ear went forward. His muzzle bulged of breathing nostrils, and he didn't even bother to shake the fly on his neck. He hated flies, abhorred them.

"Me too." she said.

And they rode on.

Short short story: "Walnut"

He had lived his entire life in this tree, this tree of senior status, on a grassy knoll where he could only see shades of green from the leaves that entombed him. He was surrounded by nuts, most the same age as he, and while he was programmed not to care, he was weary of the view. It had been a good life, and even though he knew falling meant a slow death, drying from the outside in, he was ready for change.

Snippets of Apifera

Donkey and wind converse, he with brays, a flicker of the tail, lips quiver. And the wind caresses his ear tips.


I'll tweet snippets like this, 140 character 'essences' of what I'm trying to capture in my longer short stories [many you have not seen, yet.]