Spy Girl Wannabe!

I walked across to the other corner to take this picture of a farmer baling up his hay. I felt like I was practising my spy techniques since he had no idea that I was capturing his every move. Slowly, stealthily, sneakily, sleuth-likely me.




























Ahhhh, the hot sun shining on my back, crouching there in the bushes with my camera pressed to my face...I felt like I was wearing an invisibility cloak, and was thinking I was such a good spy-er! James B would be proud of me. I was snapping happily to my heart's content, when suddenly...




He stopped.

He got OUT...

He looked around, He pulled a sword out of his back pocket...no!...He's coming this wayyyyy!

My heart that had been smiling and happy just seconds before, now started to panic and pump like crazy..."He's seen me!" "I'm a no-good spy!"

And in my wildly flailing mind I think... "He's mad!" "He's coming for me!" "He's gonna break my camera and, and...!"

Next my mind does a quick entry into my most humble and apologetic mode... "Ok, I'm sorry, I promise, I'll never spy again or take photos without asking again!"

And, oh!

Remember that sword? He's still got it...

...long and pointy and sharp...and he's walking... (with a very determined air and a tense look)...walking...

Oh.

Wait. He's going towards that hay bale...not towards me! Whew! "Relax spy girl." Deep sigh.

Ack! Did you see that? He stabbed it.

The bale!

Really violently, too.

But Mr. Haybale just sits. No sound. Nothing.

Just when I thought I could relax, there's this. A violent stabbing!

Just look at the guy. He could really do some damage...poor, dear Mr. Haybale!

But as for me...I've been rescued...Mr. Haybale had his full attention!

He doesn't appear to have seen me lurking here in the bushes...now he's....getting back into his tractor. Ahhh, be still my pounding heart.

Since I can think clearly once again, I realize that he was just using some kind of a scope to check the moisture content of the hay bale.

OK.

Now I can really relax.

He's not a girl spy killer.

I'm not James B. either...

I'm just gonna be glad that he's not checking the moisture content of my t-shirt. I'm drenched in the underarm liquids of a near panic attack!

And there he goes on his merry way with nary a thought for the condition of my heart, or my spy training!

Thank you dear Mr. Haybale - I'm forever in your debt! I'll lay off spying for a while.