The crows are after the corn again. Those green monocot seedlings must look like flags to them, each one waving an invitation to come pull it up and gobble the malted grain from which it sprouted. How to outwit them? They see us coming and row them softly homeward, or at least to the dead snag at the wood’s edge, where the sit and wait for us to leave. Our neighbor up the road recommends shooting several and hanging them in the garden as a warning to others, a method which promises a certain satisfaction whether it works or not. The twenty-gauge is in the farm vehicle, just waiting for a chance. Too bad the turkey hen which has been visiting the corn patch isn’t fair game as well.
Texas is getting too much rain too fast, rain we wish it would send up our way; although we have seen a little rain each week, it seems to us well below average, and the ground is getting hard for driving step-in posts.