Last year I was such an exceptionally good boy that Santa found room in his sack for a backhoe.
Not one of these new-fangled air-conditioned sissy machines with the girlie toggle controls.
Nosirree Bob, we're talking eight tons of manly Allis-Chalmers excavator here!
And let me tell you, this thing is more fun than I could have possibly imagined. The busybodies at the Township office want all sorts of permits and environmental impact studies before you dig a pond, so I'm not.
I'm digging holes all over the place though. Practice holes. Starting to get the hang of it, I must say, even though the farm manager seems to have a better aptitude for it. She was simultaneously swinging the boom and dumping the bucket the first time she took the controls.
So I need lots of practice, but practice is fun with this puppy. There's nothing like the satisfaction of pulling a brim-full bucket out of the unpond and dropping it twenty feet away without spilling so much as a grain of sand along the way.
I've got some major plans for the marsh across the way. With a little bit of creative rearranging of the eco-system I should be able to have boat access to the Indian River right from my property!
Unfortunately the marsh has some sort of an environmental sensitivity designation, so that's going to have to wait a couple of months till the spring foliage provides a bit of a screen.
Anyway, times a wastin'. Gonna fire up Big Yeller and dig me another practice hole!
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