When is the last time you sported a black eye?
I’m not talking about something you said or did that put a figurative shiner on your face.
I’m talking about a punch that gave you a multicolored black circle around one of your eyes. If I took off my sunglasses, you’d see I’ve got one.
How’d I get it?
An old-timer’s answer was, “It was my wife, my stove wood, and it ain’t none of your business.”
That’s not how I got my black eye.
The explanation goes back eight months. Neighbor Clyde Jones asked, “Would you like some emu eggs?” Five, to be exact. And I thought, “That might be fun for grandsons William and Fenn. If they could hatch one or more of those giant eggs, well, it’d be a memorable adventure.”
The Tallulah Falls School teenagers pooled their resources to purchase a digital incubator. The next 52 days were filled with research, anticipation and required rolling of the eggs. They were quick learners and became our family’s emu experts.
The hatch-rate odds were low, but one chick pecked its way out of the shell. And when that happened, 16-year-old William shouted, “Hallelujah!” For the next few months, “Hallie” was fed, watered, handled and exercised as if she were a puppy.
But when the “puppy” got to be 3 feet tall, Hallie needed a new home. Alan and his sons helped construct a chain-link enclosure—complete with a roof—next to my office in the barn. She has been a featured attraction for visitors.
Hallie especially loves being hand-fed kale by guests. Perhaps it was that leafy superfood, because Hallie has been shooting skyward. And she was bumping her head on the ceiling. Alan joked, “I grew up with Sesame Street’s Big Bird, and now we have one.”
The time came to move Hallie into the pasture. With helpers Randy and Michael, we fashioned a 6-foot-tall circular pen that gave Hallie access to her private barn stall. But taking down the old pen is how I got the shiner.
More on that in a minute.
When Clyde came over to check out the new barnyard arrangement, he asked, “How did you get her over here?” Thanks to neighbor Ellen’s horse trailer, Hallie rode in style. But Pam coaxed the 6-foot bird into the trailer with kale treats. And then Pam rode inside with a species survivor of dinosaur days.
For Hallie, the new pen was love at first sight. She had room to run. But she was the only one of the barnyard inhabitants that was excited. The mules, the llamas, the small horse, the miniature donkeys and the cats were terrified of the weird-looking “thing.” None of our menagerie will come close to her, even though they are separated by fences.
Maggie, a 1,600-pound mule, stares—from a safe distance—and keeps her ears cocked as if to ask, “What the heck is that?” Baby Llama Bean and his banana-eared buddies are making noises that sound like a horse with a sore throat. Bubba, Sister and Rascal, the ratcatchers, are staying a safe distance on top of hay bales. The next few weeks are going to be a barnyard soap opera.
Now, how about my black eye?
In taking down the chain-link ceiling of Hallie’s original pen, oops, a section slipped and whacked me in the face. I was lucky the contraption didn’t poke me in the eye, but I have evidence that it came close.
Hallie has been a memory-making adventure for more than William and Fenn.
Yes, even me, with my black eye.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
