Work this morning was pretty peaceful. No one was around, just me and the horses. I’m not saying I mind having people around, but there’s something to be said for the peace you can get only from early mornings alone in the barn.
As I was making my rounds, minding my own business, I heard someone call out.
I looked around in shock, I knew that I hadn’t seen anyone, and now someone was obviously in some sort of trouble.
“Help!” It called again.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Help!” Came the response.
I walked all over the barns, trying to find the source of the sound. There was no one there.
“Help! Help! Help!”
“Where are you?”
This person has a limited vocabulary, I thought to myself. “Where are you? I can’t help you if I don’t know where you are!”
I started getting a little worried at this point. Who was in my barn calling out for help? Had some kidnapper thought this a clever place to stash their hostage, knowing that horses can’t talk? Was someone crying out in pain from a rogue snakebite?
“Help!” It called, over and over again, until finally, I found her, or them rather.
Now, in my defense, I am not the first person to admit that, when the chickens squawk, their cries sound uncannily like that of a human. Some people have claimed to hear someone calling a dog, others have said it sounds like “hey!”, while others just think it’s a person chanting just to make a silly noise. I heard “help!”
Even though I had searched the barn a million times over by this point, and knew that no one was around, I immediately found myself looking around to make sure that no one had witnessed me desperately trying to calm the chicken damsels in distress.
Phew, no one saw that little embarrassment!
This isn’t the first time I’ve done something silly like this. A few months ago, a black cat strayed up and started prowling around the barn for mice and other tasty critters. While I knew he was a stray, I was still determined to catch him and try to make him a friendly barn cat.
One morning, I saw my opportunity and decided to seize it. The little black cat was hiding in the hay barn, beneath a metal pipe. I could just barely see him as he inched forward under the tiny space.
I crept forward slowly, so as not to startle him and called softly “Here kitty, kitty.”
He didn’t move. I moved in a little closer. “Here kitty, kitty.”
Since he didn’t seem to be too distressed, I decided to work up the nerve to reach out and try to pet him(because that’s a brilliant idea!), the way he was situated under the pipe, he couldn’t turn too quickly to bite….or so I thought.
“Here kitty, kitty.” I slowly reached my arm out.
It was at this point that the “kitty” turned to face me and see what the heck it was I wanted. It was also at this point that I noticed the “kitty” had a white stripe going down his tail. “Oh! You’re not a kitty!” I shrieked as I pulled my hand back.
I’m really glad no one was around that day to see me calling “Here kitty, kitty.” to a skunk.
It’s nice when you do embarrassing things and no one is around to actually witness them, however; I suppose by admitting all this to you, I’ve just completely made that point null en void, huh?