My Own “Alone” Series

I’ve never watched the show, but I’ve heard a lot about it: Alone. One person, totally isolated, off in the wilderness, trying to outlast other loners in order to win a ton of money.

My own series of events recently had me with my kids, but without my husband, at our hilltop homestead, with computer and cell phone use, and zero money or reward.

Despite those few minuscule differences, though, it was just like the show, I’m sure.

After I was holed up at home recovering from my first ever (and hopefully last ever) migraine, Hubs was heading out of town for work. He was going to be gone four nights, five days, which is about 119 hours too long…

Here’s how it went down.

He left in the morning and we had two gentle rainstorms moving through. Once the rain had passed, I went outside to tend to the chicks, pullets, and chickens. Charles Chickens, our complete and total psychotic jerk of a rooster, decided that would be a great time to attack me.

Let it be known he continually attacks me and has been a rotten pill for the last nine months. The day before Hubs left, Charles attacked him and drew blood. The rule here is if you purposely draw blood on my people, you die.

Charles’ days were already numbered. I have to carry something with me at all times to fend off his attacks. It’s stupid, to have to walk around my own property doing chores while carrying something to protect myself from a bird.

Later that afternoon, I went outside, and Charles was ready to rumble. I sprinted to the garage and grabbed the first thing I could: an aluminum baseball bat.

I’d like to interject a point of fact here: I’m really good with a bat.

Outside, I warned Charles verbally. It’s only fair. He did not care, nor did he heed my warning. He came tearing after me, and that is when I heard the “DONG” of the bat making direct, solid contact with his birdbrained head.

Let me interject another point of fact: I hate that I have to physically ward off my own animal. It pains me that he feels like the people who feed, nurture, and care for him and his flock, need to be ambushed. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to have to exert physical authority. I don’t want to hurt anything.

But sometimes, to protect myself or my kids, I do what has to be done.

As his days were already numbered, I thought, “This is it. This is how I’m going to end this.” I took another step forward to… well, finish the job.

But he ran away. How…. How on earth do you get smacked solid with a baseball bat, and manage to run away?! HE IS A DEMON BIRD.

The very next morning, I went down to the basement to put some things away. Coming back upstairs, I did one of those suck-in-so-much-air-almost-screams.

Down by the water heater, a mouse was dead in a trap.

How did this mouse get into my basement? Where are its five million other friends? Why did it have to come in and die while my husband was out of town? Why did God make mice?

I told Hubs he needed to quit his job and come home immediately to take care of this. I don’t do mice. I don’t do traps. I also don’t do spiders or insects, but those at least can be taken care of with a vacuum. Anyway, Hubs refused to quit his job and come home to rescue us.

So I had to burn the house down.

Not really, but… almost.

The third day was a bizarre day. Someone drove on my driveway as we were returning home, turned around on the one flat wide area and instead of waiting there to let me pass, came down the driveway (a hill) straight toward me, and I had to drive the car off into the grass.

A little lesson in driveway etiquette here: That is not okay.

First of all, who are you and why are you driving on a driveway that is not yours? Secondly, why are you being a double-jerk and not letting me get up the hill before you continue to go down it? This is not a road. It is a lane, a driveway, and you are somewhere you’re not supposed to be.

That was only one of several weird things that happened that day. But three hours later, I saw the same vehicle driving down the road where we live, of which our driveway is not a part. The same road he had been on three hours earlier for no apparent reason, after he forced me off my own driveway.

It didn’t sit right with me. As I locked everything up for the night, I went outside to retrieve the aluminum baseball bat. My guess is a man would not be able to run off after solid contact with a bat, because a man is not a demon bird.

By the way, Charles only avoided me for 24 hours. He then went right back to trying to claw/spur my flesh apart. If things go well enough, he’ll be providing us broth and enchiladas in the very, very near future.

We also had one of the hottest days of the year (again). The kids and I did what we could to stay cool, stay indoors, and keep ourselves busy and entertained. I resumed my project of putting things away in the basement, organizing shelves, etc.

That’s when I found the giant spider in the basement.

Should’ve burned the house down when I found the mouse.

We did not go hungry or have to sleep without protection from predators as they do in the show Alone, but it was a survival test in its own way. Single parenting is not my spiritual gift.

Apparently neither is rooster-rearing, but I’ve got two rooster chicks ready to swoop in and replace Charles Chickens as soon as they’re big enough to stay in the coop. I really wish we would have kept John Steinpeck instead. He was a prettier rooster, anyway. I hope the people who bought our Minnesota house are really enjoying him.

But now that I think about it, maybe I’ll move Charles to driveway duty and he can spaz-attack trespassers…

The point is… I would never make it far on the show Alone.

Unless, perhaps, I could bring my bat.

One Reply to “My Own “Alone” Series”

  1. Oh my word! I have laughed soo hard! Dean commented from the next room, “You must be reading a Val post!” I only wish I could see your escapades with Charles Chickens! He should cook up nicely…..on second thought, as mean as he is, he’s probably tough so you may want to slow cook him! I look forward to your posts with my Friday morning coffee!

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