I'm afraid we've had yet another instance of things that go bump and shriek in the night. I know I should be used to it by now but I still find it a shock to be wakened from a sound sleep by the sounds of Armageddon unfolding outside my window.
We four equines were all dozing (and some of us - notably the Haflinger variety - were snoring) in our deep beds when the most bloodcurdling sounds arouse just outside the window. Doc was first on his feet and was able to give us a blow-by-blow account of the mayhem.
"Bawoooo-ooooo-oooo" was the first thing we heard, apparently from the Hound of the Baskervilles - in fact it was Penny doing her best hunting hound imitation. We then heard a confused scuffling and various levels of growling and hissing. The house door opened again and this is what Doc saw. "Geez Louise, it's a spectacle (I think he meant spectre)! It's wearin pink fuzzy stuff an a hat with flaps and it's carrying a big wooden spoon! It's fallin over it's feet now cos it's shoes is too big! Now it goin over to the big tree and looking up and yelling and wavin the spoon thing! Oh wait, it's just Herself." With that he went back to his remaining hay.
I mean, really. Is this normal? I think not. A few minutes later Herself appeared in the barn door and flicked on the light. Her face was flushed and mottled. She was indeed wearing bright pink night clothing made of material that had, I assume, been rejected as too gaudy for novelty beach towels. She had thrown some sort of shawl around her shoulders and this was complemented by the horrible "Elmer Fudd" hat of many flaps. She wore the male human's galoshes on her feet and yes, she was brandishing a long-handled wooden spoon. My heart is still leaping about like a gaffed salmon from the visual shock of it all.
It seems one of those masked, ring-tailed creatures we call a Robber Baron had the temerity to walk across the lawn and Penny had spotted it from her lookout post in an upstairs window. Penny rocketed outside and commenced battle - in my opinion not a wise decision as the Robber Baron is approximately twice her size. They had the spine-chilling exchange of unpleasantries that we had heard and the woman, in a rush to protect Penny, had exited the house clad as - well - as Doc said, as a spectacle. I have no idea what she proposed to do with the wooden spoon - perhaps puree the miscreant or batter it to death. The RB wisely retreated to the top of the tree and averted it's gaze.
Why any sort of wildlife would want to come anywhere near this madhouse is beyond me but they seem to be drawn as if by magnetic force. I anticipate many more sleepless nights, punctuated with ungodly sound effects and who knows what sartorial crimes.