BUTTERFLIES ARE FREE

Like the Goldie Hawn movie that inspired the 1969 song by Edward Albert, "Butterflies Are Free," butterflies are free wings of freedom. These enchanted flying flowers sport diverse patterns of brightly colored wings displaying erratic yet graceful flight. This black female swallowtail belonging to the order Lepidoptera is indeed free, free to enjoy this Sweet William in my wild flower garden. Freedom, a privilege this farm chick fears may be short termed if organizations like the Humane Society, PETA or the ASPCA get wind of what I have been up to. Not to mention that using mothballs other than the recommended directions is a violation of Federal Laws. I'm jail-bait. Who knew?

The feud between the La'Pews and the Ponderosa household is exhausting. So far PePe and his carnivorous kin are winning. I have drenched the lawn in Dursban eliminating the families food supply of moist juicy grubs. They have out skunked us against the A-5 Automatic Browning 12-gauge Belgian poly choke shotgun. The rabid carrying critter made like Houdini when confronted with the 22-caliber Ithaca lever action rifle. They have enjoyed their dinning experience of the decadent smorgasbord I have set before them consisting of a CyKill appetizer, the newest of morsels designed for anticoagulant resistant rats. I served them a mouthwatering entree' of Diamond dog food kibbles splashed with vegetable oil then coated in Quickrete mortar mix. When I spooned this tasty entree' under the house through a drain hole off the carport I thought I had entered Purgatory hearing growling and gnashing of teeth as I laid out my presentation. Finally, an irresistible dessert of Decon peanut-butter balls was offered which was consumed instantly. The immortal pole cats are thriving on these delicious delicacies and begging for more.

Taking the advice of a sweet blogger I ran a search using mothballs to evict the odorous tenants dwelling under our abode. This was the last straw, so we were off to purchase some eviction balls where we met the friendly clerk who followed us onto the parking lot and to our auto. Sharing advice like, "feed 'em some bar bait, that'll git'em,"... or....are you ready....,"Ya, need to LIVE trap 'em." Yeah right, I'm not that stupid, brave or adventurous. I had very high expectations using this plan so I scattered a box of eviction balls in strategic areas beneath our house as Hubby was showering. Entering the house with my nose burning, eyes watering and the back of my throat raw, I met Hubby commenting on the strength of the smell and how intense his head was throbbing. I think we both agreed that this smell surpassed skunk juice as the top undesirable odor. We could endure if it would evict the smelly little devils. That night I was awaken from midnight to four in the morning by the activity. They obviously enjoyed the fragrance and was having a bash to celebrate.

My lovely home that always reeks of mulberry essence is now emitting a strong mothball scent laced with a touch of skunk juice. The La'Pew family is interfering with this hormonal menopausal farm chicks sleep and we all know ya' don't mess with a menopausal woman especially one who has ammo within reach. Lord I pray if I am incarcerated by animal rights groups or for breaking Federal Laws that I be locked up in a Sandals all inclusive Caribbean prison. I would prefer to be free but if not let it be in a warm tropical setting where "Butterflies are Free!!!"