On Fire

Dear Readers,
This it what happens when you take a prairie hen to a bonfire...

She gets a burning urge to run away... Meat cooking over the fire is NEVER a good thing for a chicken.

She smolders at the sight of her beloved.

He big man. He make fire.

The mosquitoes really burn her biscuits.

She burns to swat the little buggers for biting her baby.

She burns with the desire to squeeze the puddin' right out of this baby boy.

She receives scorching glances for sticking her camera in everyone's face while they are eating. People rarely like pictures of themselves chewing. Prairie Hen's, on the other hand, love chewing pictures, unless the people are chewing on said chicken... that's a different story.

Her mothering urges burn fierce on sighting this delicious baby girl. Her Auntie instincts fire-up and she wants to go buy up everything pink and frilly she can find and foist it upon her niece, Harlie. Sadly, a prairie hen's husband says no and so do the child parents. Spoiled sports.

Her camera lens heats up at the sight of the beautiful scenery around Mr. Loggerhead's pond.

She fights the burning desire to run to the nearest body of water to flush out her tender ears after having it imparted to her that her sweet, innocent, LITTLE brother-in-law admits to liking the song 'California Gurls'.

She will never be the same.
She is smoked; disillusioned.


She has a spark of inspiration.

She breaks out in song.

I know a place
Where the fields go on forever
Lush, moist and plowed
There must be something in the diesel
Grillin' beef and chops
camping underneath the oak trees
Boys break their necks
Try'na scour up a power tower

You could travel the World
But there's nothing around
like our Husker ground
Once you tailgate with us
You'll be wearing The Red
Like the rest of us.

Nebraska Boyz
Are unforgettable
Wrangler butts
Husker T-shirts on top
Farmer's tans so hot
They'll bust your carburetor

Nebraska Boyz
They're so reliable
Rugged, ripped, red
We've got it un-locked
Mid-West's the best
Now put your flags up

Date on tail-gate
We don't mind rust on our
Hear the roar of our Ford's
Johnny Cash is on the radio



So you see, next time someone says to you, "Let's invite the Prairie Hen to our cook-out."
Say no. The whole World will thank you.

Hunk of Burning Prairie Love in NE


  1. Oh dear! I'm afraid you're going to scare off any potential visits from our blogging friends to our fine red-necked er...clad I mean- family/state! HAHA!

    No, really I about fell off my chair laughing! Did you REALLY make that up on the spot & sing it to them?
    I'm thinking you need to make a book out of "your songs"--I can think of several other winners.

  2. Ramie! That is terrible! I like that song! And you ruined it for me!! Kidding! It is a good song! The real one! On my blog, your picture disappeared!!

  3. dear On fire,

    I have not heard the song...i know, i HAVE heard that 'if i listened to the radio. like. ever. i would hear it'. Well, maybe NPR doesn't count as radio. Prairie Home companion has not featured it YET.....Hey....maybe that is where you should send in your lyrics? eh?

    You captured some nice shots of the pasture/pond gathering, reminds me of last years 4th of July out there. It is SO gorgeous, and almost 'tops' on the list of my favorite areas of our state.

    Never burnt out in


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