September 11, 2014 – I thought about how distraught I was over the missing neck feathers yesterday and the undeniable truth that I too, have entered my annual molt. Then I gave myself a firm talking to. What an amazing ability our bodies have to shed tired plumage and grow healthy, new feathers. I am grateful. The opportunity to renew is not granted to everyone, and so I will take this day to count my blessings. Then, I will take a nap and prepare for our late night moonshine run. Molt or not, our last delivery has to be made and Miss Pauline of Pauline’s Crab Shack and Ballroom Dance Emporium will be expecting us at exactly 2 minutes after 2:00 A.M.
For this run, my good friend, Rosemary the dairy cow from Mrs. Turner’s farm has offered to help load us up. She’s walking over after lunch to transport plastic jugs of hooch from our secret moonshine still in the woods to the bed of the pickup. There, Tim in his fancy tie, will oversee their placement and carefully conceal the contraband spirits inside a tunnel he cut out of a half-dozen bales of hay. I think it’s a brilliant cover!
The gas tank is full, we have an emergency kit under the floorboards, and Tim’s bringing along a gallon of pure ethanol as a back up in case we burn through our fuel like the last trip we made over to Pauline’s. After my nap, I’ll grab our headlamp flashlights, colander helmets, and pack a snack of dried mealworms and raisins. Making an illicit run of white lightning under the glow of a fading super moon gets my skin all tingly. Snoozing won’t be easy, so I’m going to take a sip of the lavender leaf and chamomile extract tea that Addie gave me. It helps her to fall asleep whenever visions of dastardly cats plaque her mind. You know it has to be good if it wipes all references of felines from your thoughts. I just hope it’s not too strong.