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by C.J. Mouser After growing up in Texas, C.J. Mouser and her husband, Fred, eventually found home on a small farm in west central Florida, where they and children Jenny, Jillian and Jake grow oranges and raise swine. A collection of goats, cats and dogs also call the farm home, along with the occasional rattlesnake, alligator or "marauding wild hog intent on a little romance" in the sow pasture. Other articles focus on family. "Sometimes the threads that hold the family together are as fragile as spider silk, and as convoluted and complex as the main switchboard at the IRS." Their farm spans thirty acres in Hardee County, where they raise livestock, oranges, and the occasional few acres of some type of cash crop. Although her husband had some background in animal husbandry and livestock management, life on the farm was a new experience for C J and their three children. Her readers have learned to expect to laugh and occasionally cry, as she describes her joys, trials, and tribulations in such tales as Ricardo Ropes a Pig, The Maternal Instinct, Memories on the Hoof, and Never Take a Duck to Bed. Mouser, who is also a freelance writer and columnist for several different Florida newspapers, followed her own path to become a writer. "I have no formal education. In fact, I'm 45 years old and haven't finished high school," she says. "I am a prime example of 'don't let this happen to you'." Faithful readers who can't wait for her next story, however, would say she's done just fine. |
I went hog hunting with the kids Saturday night. I will never go again. It started out fine. We unloaded the dogs and were walking along in the dark, the dogs sniffing the air and getting more excited by the minute. I too, was excited; being out there in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, with the sounds of the night creatures all around and the stars shining so brightly that it felt like I could reach up and grab them. I will be the first to admit that I am scared of the dark, but there is safety in numbers, and there were four of us and three dogs. We must have walked three miles or better before Roscoe and Baby, the "bay" dogs, were released, and that's when the hell started. Everything went into hyper-motion. The dogs took off and the kids started running. I found to my dismay, that they could run much faster than I could and I was literally left in the dust. I had been informed earlier that if I needed assistance I should whistle. I was not planning on being left in the dark alone so needless to say, when I tried to whistle, my mouth had gone so dry that all that came out was a frantic...."pfffft!" I stood there listening to the barking dogs growing further and further away and I suddenly remembered that I could whistle though my fingers. I let out a whistle that could be heard for miles, and immediately Jill was by my side. "Whatsa matter?" "Whatsa matter? You left me! You all left me!" "We didn't leave you...you have to keep up!" Pant, pant. "Come on!" She grabbed my hand and literally started dragging me. We took turns tripping over clumps of weeds and the broken branches that littered the ground and finally, the sound of a hog squealing came to us from some distance to the north. Jill turned into something possessed; she yanked my arm so hard she liked to pulled it out of the socket and when she met with nothing but resistance she turned me loose and took off again, basically dropping me like a bad habit. Fortunately for me, the hog doubled back, and the kids ran past me going the other direction. They were mere shapes in the darkness as they swarmed past me. "If you see a big hog headed at you," Jill called on the run, "get out off the way!" And then we promptly, and with a good deal of force, slammed into each other. "You were saying?" I said, as we picked ourselves up off the ground and we both giggled. The boys came wandering back with the dogs. "We lost it." "Oh. Good." I said. "Well I had a good time, sorry it had to end so soon." "Well, we're not done." Jake said. "We're gonna keep at it." "Uh uh. Not me." I said. "I'm goin' back to the truck." "How?" Jill asked. "The same way I got here." I replied firmly. "You're gonna walk four or five miles in the dark by yourself?" She asked incredulously. "I don't particularly relish the thought, but right now it sounds like a lot better idea than getting left out here in the dark. At least right now I have an idea how to get back." The boys, apparently having seen such scenarios before, put their heads together for the next plan of action while Jill stood and blinked at me in the darkness. "I can't let you walk back. I know you...it would be emotional suicide." "So what...you going with me?" Hope, hope. "Heeeeck no." "Oh, gee thanks." "I have a better idea. Come on." She grabbed me by the hand and led me though a little bay head and out the other side and before me was the most welcome sight I had ever seen. A pale thread of white against the dark weeds. It was a road. Then she got on her cell phone, wheedled a friend of hers away from a party to come pick us up and less than thirty minutes later we were home. The next morning I was so sore I could barely walk…even the bottoms of my feet were sore. The boys caught a two-hundred and forty pound boar and I'm sorry I wasn't there to see the whole thing, but it occurs to me that there are some things that are better left to the young, the energetic, and the slightly silly in the head, but I do have to admit that I have a whole new respect for Jill who engages in this activity at least once a week, and Jake, who would go every night if he got the chance. |
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