Do you ever wish you could get a do-over on a rough day? Today was one of those days.
It actually started last night when I set about laying out my running clothes and my work clothes. I realized I’d left ALL my jeans at my parents’ house. I’d taken my laundry home and had somehow managed to get everything repacked except the jeans. I debated just wearing running shorts and capris for the next few days, but in the interest of not ruining everything I own, I decided to call my dad and plead with him to meet me somewhere after work. He, of course, agreed. I have the best parents in the world. So I only had to last one day in leggings. It wasn’t fun. I have a whole new level of appreciation for denim and I understand why it is the uniform of choice for farmers. It is heavy enough to protect your legs from stinging nettle as you walk through pastures (leggings are not), but it isn’t overly hot and breathes nicely (leggings do not).
Wednesdays are always chicken days. We brought another batch of broiler chicks up to pasture. Steve was off picking up the animals from the slaughterhouse and Ryan was trying to fix one of the broiler houses which left me to catch chickens on my own. It wouldn’t have been so bad except that we had two batches in the shed for a total of almost 300 chickens. Half were two weeks old and half were three weeks. We only wanted to take the three-week old guys up to pasture. My method was to simply scoop up as many as I could and sort from there.
We also moved the old laying flock up with the new layers. Did I mention that our new house and 500 new layers arrived? They did. The house is really something else. Granted, it doesn’t have a chandelier like the coop from Neiman Marcus, but it does have an automatic feeder and waterer that are solar powered.
The new layers are just starting to lay, but it will be a few more weeks before their eggs are up to snuff. They are awfully tiny at the moment. Some don’t even have yolks!
As I said, we moved the old layers up with the new ones today. Chicken-dog was already up there. Apparently she had a minor meltdown over the whole thing, but seemed to be relatively well-adjusted when I went up this morning. That was Monday. Today was Bob’s turn to have a meltdown. She followed the house for a bit, crying and bleating all the way, but quickly grew tired and gave up. She spent the rest of the morning in a corner of the pasture bleating as loudly as she could. I should note that there were three lambs and 4 ewes in the pasture with her. She wanted nothing to do with them.
Once we’d finished with a few other tasks, I took a bucket of corn up to try to lure Bob up to the chicken house with her friends. She’d follow me for a bit and then run back to her corner. It was very much a 2-steps-forward-1-step-back kind of dance. Finally Ryan came and carried her up at which point she seemed much happier and stopped crying. She was even pleased to see Chicken-dog.
After lunch we moved cows. There was a rogue heifer who managed to get back in with the herd without too much trouble. Last year’s calves were the trouble group. They did not want to move. It was extremely frustrating. We finally got them and were putting the fence back up when I got shocked. It was an honest mistake. Steve didn’t realize I was still setting up posts when he reconnected it. Still hurt like hell. Seven volts of electricity coursing through your body wakes you up better than espresso.
I finished afternoon chores and headed out to retrieve my jeans from my dad. There is a point on Route 82 where the speed limit drops from 45 to 35. It happens to be on a downward slope. I did not slow down fast enough. A very nice police officer pulled me over to let me know. He gave me a “citation.” A footnote is a citation. Call a spade a spade, buddy. You gave me a speeding ticket. Which, I will say, I deserved.
Now I am curled up in bed with my book, quietly humming “The sun will come out tomorrow.” In theory. It’s actually supposed to rain all day tomorrow. Sigh.