Last night, I had a dream a family of foxes came and started taking our ducks in broad daylight. Me, my mom and my sister tried swatting at them with rakes and brooms, but it was like trying to swat gnats or minnows. They were lightening-quick, and it soon got to be like a game to them--one of them would pick up a duck and take off zig-zagging across the yard, and while we were chasing it, another one would grab two more and take off in the opposite direction. Finally, I caught one of the cubs by the tail as it was squirming under the fence, but I was so worn out by all that running that I just gave its furry behind a few firm taps with a willow branch.
I then went around the back of the house, partly in fear of my mom getting mad at me for letting that cub escape, and partly in fear of getting accidently whacked by a wildly-swinging rake or broom. I soon came upon this weird albino kid wearing a floppy beret and stripped shirt; he was digging this hole in this sandbank using his bare hands. He said what his name was, but I couldn't remember. He said he lived up the hill from us past the rodeo grounds. Well, I soon join him in this excavatation project of his. To me, it was far better than chasing foxes all day.