Friday, June 4, 2010


This was the series of events that played out last night:

Arrive home from work, put baby in back pack and head to barn. Turn out goats, which start to meander in the "runway" to the field. Release angry, penned-up donkey who blasts, bucking, towards the field and encounters wayward goats. Donkey kicks goat and runs off. I shepard the (unhurt) goats to the field. Pile chicken feed, bucket of straw and bucket of shavings on 4-wheeler and drive to chicken coop. Hit brakes too hard and dump entire contents of straw bucket down my right boot. Remove boot,  swear, shake out straw. Step in cow poop with socked foot. Swear again. Open lid to egg-laying box. Turn, pull goat off 4-wheeler. Nesting box lid smashes into my forehead. Swear, rub head and realize I have just rubbed chicken poop on my forehead and into my hair. Swear again. Swear again. Pull goat off 4-wheeler. Pull goat off 4-wheeler. Open nesting box, chicken jumps out. Cow chases chicken (in futile attempt to squash it) into neighbor's yard. Smash fingers in lid. Swear. Collect eggs, refurbish nesting boxes.
Enter coop to feed chickens. 10 escape, goat runs in and eats chicken food. Pull goat out. Comes back in. Pull goat out, comes back in. More chickens escape. Herd all but six chickens in. Pull goat off 4-wheeler. Fill chicken water and spill ~2 gallons into my other boot.
Return to house where all six chickens have destroyed my herb garden. Chase chickens. Repeat chase. Give up and vow to re-plant herb garden next year. Consider chasing chickens from vegetable garden, but give up and decide to turn on news while preparing baby's dinner. Colt gets a hold of the remote, bites it, and the TV screen goes entirely blue, flashes "No Signal" message over and over.
Attempt to feed Colt. Resulted in full-on meltdown complete with a mashed potato and applesauce facial for baby. Bottle him and off to bed.
Seriously. No more Todd working late..... I am obviously severly underqualified for this farming thing.


  1. I think it is time to get a gun. A really BIG gun. Goat jumps on 4-wheeler...shoot 1 leg off. Goat jumps on 4-wheeler a second time...Shoot ear off. Goat jumps on 4-wheeler a third time...Goat chops/filets for dinner! Same goes for chickens, except they only they get 1 warning shot across the tail. Nip this in the bud, or Colt will learn from you that when he screws up or misbehaves (because really, kids are just like animals when it comes to mis-behaving!), you will just curse like a drunken sailor while physically beating yourself up and he will continue on getting into trouble. I've seen it a thousand times.

  2. Sometimes I think we must have been separated at birth! That's hilarious, and I can totally see all of those things happening to me too.

    Unrelated side note. Tuesday night I went home and made macaroni and cheese for dinner, and using my cell phone, I took a little video of me opening the box, (left handed because my right thumb was bruised), and was going to text it to you, but it was too large of a clip to send. It was a shaky effort, being one handed, and left-handed to boot, but I thought you'd appreciate the effort. :-)