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Back when I still lived on the old family ranch outside of Austintatious, I'd drag a shredder around the psture during the winter, mulching the dead Johnson grass and weeds. Improve the land. ("I was raised in Central Texas, on a rock farm.")
I'd look back, and hawks would be around in the trees, and the occasional fox would be checking out the stubble. Mostly, they were grabbing field mice, but they'd get the occasional cottontail.
Art
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