Okay, so we all know it’s “duck, duck, grey duck”, but for today it’s chicken.
I was out cleaning the coop this morning and right in front of me a rough looking little red hen pecked a shell and proceeded to eat a scrambled egg. I’m all for good chicken feed and a eggs are a great source of protein and other healthy stuff (especially ours). But I’m not about to let the girls start (or continue) to eat eggs. We are not buying feed for them to turn around and eat the eggs too.
That’s what the newspaper would title it. The whole thing would go something like this:
Local Farmer Knocked Out By Cow Pie
At approximately 5:30 am Mr. Lauer found his wife unconscious in the cow pen. “I usually stop out to say goodbye in the morning. I went out early because she forgot her coffee on the counter that morning. She usually has a cup with Caroline, her cow.” said Mr. Lauer. He found Mrs. Lauer laying next to her pitch fork and Caroline her cow was standing next to her looking very concerned. After assessing the situation, Mr. Lauer could see that his wife had finished feeding the cows and started cleaning the barn. The weather has been seasonably cold and the cow pies have froze. Judging by the size of the crater at Mrs. Lauer’s feet and the size of the pie next to her head it was safe to assume that she pried the frozen pie from the ground, which sent it airborne hitting her in the head and knocked her unconscious.
Wheezy and I never really got along but we had an understanding. I was the boss and she would get feed and fresh water if she left me alone. She didn’t have this agreement with the rest of the herd though. She was pretty sure that one day she would be queen if she kept running the others out of the feeder or out of her way in general.
It was a dark and stormy night, well sort of. It was evening and raining pretty good. There was some thunder here and there. I was getting groceries after work when I got the call.
“Hey, uh, where are you?”
“Just finishing at the grocery store. Do I need to run back in for something?”
“No. Hmm… The cows are in the front yard.”
“I’m on my way. If you need help now, try Mark or Uncle Greg. I don’t think dad’s home.”
“I think they’ll be ok.”
Sure enough, I pulled into the yard and everyone except the calves were milling about the front yard. I would have left them for a bit, the lawn needed mowing and with all the rain we’ve been getting we (Mike) hadn’t had a chance to do it. I hopped out of the car and headed to the barn… well let’s be honest here, eight and a half month pregnant I rolled out of the car and waddled to the barn. By the time I got there water was swishing between my toes and I realized that I was once again not wearing the proper footwear for rain or cows. It was too late to change though.