Archive for February 25th, 2013

Weekend with Animals


It was a busy animal day here on Saturday, one of those days where I handle every animal on the farm. The farrier was coming, and Morgan wasn’t home. Moving the horses and donkeys from the field back to the barn by myself is a task. If I do it right, Shortcake will follow Zip. Usually. Donkeys follow no one and generally require some pushing and shoving and cajoling to go where you want them to go. First, I had to move the sheep and goats and dogs out of their field so I could move the equine people through to the barn within fencing. It must have been my lucky day because this went off without a hitch. Morgan came home not long after I finished doing it by myself. Of course! And she had to go look for herself because she was so shocked that I had done it without her. Ha.

Zip, getting the treatment:
The farrier, showing Morgan how he holds front feet, which is different than how she was taught before:
My beloved:
Morgan’s boyfriend was with her and she thought he ought to learn something about farming. Or she thought it would be funny. Poky is the “difficult” donkey to hold during trimming, so he got that job.
I had Dumplin shut up in the milking parlor because I was planning to milk Glory Bee in the evening. She’s a growing girl and her halter needed loosening. Since I had both Morgan and her boyfriend on hand, I suggested we all tackle the calf together and work on her halter. Three on one.

Morgan, WHO HAD LITTLE TO DO WITH GLORY BEE WHEN SHE WAS A BABY, glanced at the angelic demon-in-disguise I already had handily confined and said, “That’s no big deal. I can do it.” She was scoffing at me a bit. Scoffing!

I said, “Okay, smartypants.” I didn’t figure Dumplin would kill her since the boyfriend was there if (WHEN) this didn’t go so well, so I went back to the house.
Morgan came back to the house a little while later. “I HATE COWS! I’M NEVER TOUCHING A COW AGAIN!”

She says this after every time she touches a cow. I don’t think she gets cows, but I’m here to tell ya, she gets calves now. Dumplin ran her around the milking parlor until she had to get her boyfriend to tackle the new bad baby while Morgan finally got her halter loosened up. Everybody was a little the worse for wear by the time that was accomplished.

Except me. I was sitting on the couch laughing.

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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....

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