Skunk

SBW's Crossbow

There's a skunk in my house. It must have crept in through the basement and made its way to the downstairs bathroom, where it's made itself a kind of den. Animal Control has put a trap enclosed in a black plastic bag at the entrance of its den. 

Skunk Den

So far the skunk has resisted this ploy. It has also resisted the temptation to spray, for which I thank God. Church people have urged me to shoot the skunk with a crossbow. But I won't; I am a man of peace.

The Egg

In other exciting news, I was sitting on the front porch with some of the team, when a chicken ran into an adjacent hedge, squawked loudly, laid an egg, then strutted off quickly from whence it came.

The egg is now in my fridge.

That is all.

LSP

Mole Catcher

Years ago, in the hoary antiquity of the mid '90s, I found myself taking a break from parish life and working for a small company in London that was all about something called Lotus Notes. A lot of fun and led by the charismatic IT, Marketing and PR chieftan, MCP - Michael Chapman Pincher. But times moved on and we went our separate ways, me to America and a return to priestly life, MCP to IT Supremacy somewhere in London. Splendid.

Then things changed; after a cataclysmic '07/08 we both ended up living in the country, Texas and Pershore respectively, each suffering from multiple, vicious back wounds. Anyhow, I visited him a few weeks back and as we hadn't seen each other for years it was straight down to a riverside pub to swap grisly knife in the back stories whilst admiring the sunlit pastoral idyll that is that part of Worcestershire. Beautiful. Then I noticed that my erstwhile guv'nor's hands were strangely calloused, as though he'd become a Son of the Soil, which is exactly what had happened.

When the IT thing ended MCP was thrown back to Pershore, his wits and the land. The Corporate World had turned his back on him - not so the country and he found new employment as a Trapper, a mole trapper. I understand it started off in a small way and then moved up; when I was there the business was expanding to rabbits and now, evidently, squirrels.

So, when I wasn't busy taking pictures of Aghas, myself in the mirror and enjoying the excellent company and house of Mr. & Mrs. MCP, it was down to the new office - the mole fields.

These had been digging up land used to pasture race horses and had to go - 12 traps per beast, which seemed intense but I gather they're pretty wiley. As were the rabbits who were conspicious by their absence; no doubt sensing the risk of death they were keeping their heads down. Still, nothing daunted, we set up a trap at the warren and paused for a moment's reflection. I asked my friend if he'd changed his theological point of view from believing that "it's all down to carbon boys" to something else: 

"So what d'you think about God these days?" After a long pause and gaze at the field he replied, "Well, I spend a lot of time on my knees right now..."

Excellent and well done - I'd say that the Deity has shown uncommon kindness; after all, what's better? Hideous corporate world, or living in a beautiful house in a country town whilst carving out a new niche in edible (rabbit/squirrel) pest control?

Massive respect to Michael and Becky Chapman Picher.

LSP

PS. More from the MCP homestead later.