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.
“Hey! Where did the meat birds go?!” It had been a couple weeks since we butchered chickens and the little miss just now noticed the empty chicken tractor. She wasn’t too concerned when we told her they were in the freezer and we had been eating them for supper. She was already on to talking about the new chicks in the coop.
The little boy helped plant the garden and I’ve had all the kids out there helping harvest now too. They’ve been busy pulling onions, picking tomatoes and corn. At ages 2 and 4 there’s some vegetable casualties, squished tomatoes and topless onions for starts. It’s so much fun to see the excitement in their eyes when they are handed a cob of corn and after they curiously peal back a few layers of husk they discover “there’s a corn in there!” The potatoes are next on the list. Mike and I can dig and the kids can do the picking there too.
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.
“Hey, so, ah, the cows somehow got the red gate off the hinge and everybody is in the corral. G.W. is trying to breed Lucy already.” That’s right, another one of Mike’s famous calls from the barn.
All afternoon the rain has been off and on; the “on” in the form of heavy, soaking down pours and some hail at one point. We had planned to put some dehorning paste on Margo tonight. Her horns are just barely little bumps, but big enough that we can tell she will have horns. It’s best we take care of them now before they attach to her skull and she gets any stronger. She’s got a lot of might in that little frame.