so...guess what everyone. i live on a farm. a farm that is slowly being overtaken by gophers. gross, big-toothed, dirty, little gophers. and guess what we do to gophers that try to take over our farm? (i use we loosely as i have nothing to do with this.) we whack 'em. ice 'em. git rid of 'em. they. are. gonners.
so, one of the farm employees rides her little four-wheeler out into the fields. she marks some holes with pipe flags and this indicates to her where she will soon find a dead (rest it's soul) goph. basically, she does what she needs to do and traps 'em. then she waves her wand and they die. just like that. (i don't know what actually happens, but this is how it goes in my mind.)
so about every two weeks we get a knock onour door. the farmer gets a plate of homemade tamales in his right hand and a ziploc freezer bag of (i just gagged) gopher tails in the other. AND HE HAS THE NERVE TO BRING THEM INSIDE AND SET THEM ON THE COUNTER. ON. THE. KITCHEN COUNTER! now, i sent this picture to my girlfriends this summer because they live in the big city and i think they are still confused by the world i live in.
after i sent the above picture, you can imagine the response i received. horror. disgust. one was even kind of impressed. (and pay no attention to the giant knife the farmer is holding. he's just trying to demonstrate that the tails have been cut off. (it's his creative licence.) but one response was totally valid. it came from my dear, sweet cathie, "please tell me those are not gopher tails sitting on your kitchen counter next to your spring mix." yep, i was caught. i was preparing a delicious salad next to (i gagged again) cut off gopher tails.
you see, we need the tails so we know how much to pay the gopher catcher. she gets two bucks a tail. we figured once that she probably makes an extra $4 grand a summer. and i'm going to tell you something...that lady has some serious job security. those gophers breed. they breed like it's their first time every time.
so, one of the farm employees rides her little four-wheeler out into the fields. she marks some holes with pipe flags and this indicates to her where she will soon find a dead (rest it's soul) goph. basically, she does what she needs to do and traps 'em. then she waves her wand and they die. just like that. (i don't know what actually happens, but this is how it goes in my mind.)
so about every two weeks we get a knock onour door. the farmer gets a plate of homemade tamales in his right hand and a ziploc freezer bag of (i just gagged) gopher tails in the other. AND HE HAS THE NERVE TO BRING THEM INSIDE AND SET THEM ON THE COUNTER. ON. THE. KITCHEN COUNTER! now, i sent this picture to my girlfriends this summer because they live in the big city and i think they are still confused by the world i live in.
 |
| in the picture please note - gopher tails with their respective counts. dirty, dirty farmer hands. spring mix. |
you see, we need the tails so we know how much to pay the gopher catcher. she gets two bucks a tail. we figured once that she probably makes an extra $4 grand a summer. and i'm going to tell you something...that lady has some serious job security. those gophers breed. they breed like it's their first time every time.
No comments:
Post a Comment