Hey There !
Dave from McElhoes Family Farm/Belmont here.
Just
when I think there is nothing to really report on the farm, something
happens, and I feel compelled to share it... Even when I probably
shouldn't.
Around
here we are kinda early to bed early to rise, and we have had a pretty
full docket the last few weeks, so I admit I fell into bed early Sunday
evening and was almost immediately asleep.
After
an hour or two, I was startled awake to a distress sound of a chicken
probably being attacked by a fox. Springing up, I raced toward the
kitchen door. In the process, I discovered somehow that we had acquired
a great deal more furniture and walls than I had remembered, and that
we had, and that we had imprudently placed them in a random pattern
nearly blocking my path.
Bursting
through the kitchen door I was hit with the strong smell of skunk.
Remembering that our dog Tootsie (the sweetest, but also dumbest dog I
know of) had been sprayed on Friday, I slipped back inside looking for a
flashlight. After a long and protracted search for the flashlight that
we ALWAYS keep by the kitchen door, I found it in the living room,
where I made myself a little more acquainted with the random obstacles.
Reemerging
from the house, I discovered a half dozen deer munching happily inside
the fence of the garden/truck patch. I rushed toward them hoping to
distract them and frighten them away. They were skeptical however, and,
with bean vines still trailing from their mouths, mosied over the fence
and up the hill toward town, pausing in the maples behind my neighbors
where there a bit of "shade" from the full moon lighting up the
pasture. Still heading past the broilers and toward the mobile egg
coops, I scanned the edges of the pasture in front of me with
the flashlight. At the far end I saw a set of blinking eyes behind a
large pile of fill dirt. To further complicate matters, coyotes were in a
frenzy on the next hill to the east. A loud snort from the now alarmed
deer startled me just enough to draw my attention, and in that split
second, the fox was gone. After finding another pile of feathers, near
the two from previous nights, I turned and headed back toward the house.
At
that moment I heard another distress call from the "retirement" coop on
the other side of the house near the barn. I rushed across the
driveway, nearly falling in our huge ruts and bruising my slipper
shodden feet on the rough stones. Arriving too late, again, I found the
feathers from one of Katie's pet guineas. Dejected and exhausted, I
decided to head back up to the house and go in the back door. As I
opened the gate below the greenhouse, I was tackled by the
aforementioned lovable but idiotic dog. She was not supposed to be
inside this area, but had apparently found that body slamming the gate
would pop the latch and set her free. After briefly roughing me up, she
raced past and began to run the sheep in their paddock. Hilarity
ensued.
After
breaking that up and putting Toots back in the yard, I reached for the
back door, only to find it locked. Heading around toward the kitchen I
heard a kid goat crying. Turning back toward the barn, I could tell the
sound was coming from beyond the spruces out to the west side of our
property, pausing to turn off the electric fence charger only to find it
was already off. After finding the kid, and freeing his head from the
tiny hole in the gate he had pushed it though, I headed back toward the
house, still exhausted, but pausing to turn the fence charger on.
Fortunately,
I was able to get back in the kitchen door, where I happily discovered
the new furniture and walls had been removed, and my way back into bed
was now free and clear. In a few minutes I was peacefully back asleep.
A
sudden growl and enraged barking awakened me again. Stumbling once
again to the door, I saw Tootsie frantically trying to get up into the
orchard. There isn't a gate near the house, so I rushed back towards
the barn and through the electric net. In the orchard, I chase off the
skunk hoping to calm the dog. Another crisis averted, I wearily headed
back down the hill, having covered about 3/4 of the farm in my
bedclothes and slippers only to discover my way is blocked by the
electric net. I do not know how I had gotten through it before, so I
decided that I must not have turned the fence charger on like I should
have, and made a mental note to turn it on before going back in. My
bedroom slippers were apparently not the proper foot gear for the steep,
dew covered bank as I slipped, landed hard on my tail bone and rolled
directly into the net. In an instant, I discovered that, yes, I had
turned the fence on, and I also noted that it was carrying a pretty good
charge. Unable to get up quickly enough, I rolled hard over it,
twitching and yelping with each 8000 volt pulse. Just as I was getting
untangled, the ever helpful Tootsie leaped on me like a starving jackal,
yelping and rolling us both back into the net.
After
a struggle, I managed to free us both, although the dog is now
convinced I attacked her with some kind of superpower. Finally heading
into the house, just as I closed the door, the electric went out...
Wouldn't that have been convenient a few minutes ago?
Sorry for the long letter this week, but I reckon I needed to vent.
Thanks for Listening,
Dave
"O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here!"
- Shakespeare, The Tempest
|
