I’ve got cuts and scrapes bumps and bruises, I’ve learnt to swing a hammer (without causing myself further grievous bodily harm), hold the right end of a crowbar and wrench out rusty old nails and screws. I’ve balanced on a ladder as it sank into ten inches of soft smelly chicken poop and brushed off powdered poop that ambushed me from above. Today I discovered that a drill has an “in and an out”, huffed and puffed when the screws stayed firmly “in” despite my determination to get them “out”… and discovered operator’s error ! I’ve had my head wrapped in sticky cobwebs and had my nose just a little too close to Roland the rat’s ( and his extended family) warren of holes. ….but I’ve had fun !!! I’ve become a demolition expert and I think I’ll be on the lookout for my next project because I have nothing left to demolish. The rotten old boards and rusty archaic wiring that was the chicken coop is no more. We have an open space…. just waiting for a new home, my hard won plum and two cherry trees. Greg cautiously advised me (just in case I thought it would be ready tomorrow) that we still have a lot of work before my new chicken/turkey habitat will match my vision….I can wait…maybe next week ?? (Why is Greg laughing ?)
Every year as the formation eating team (sheep) and their lambs are turned out into the pasture we find at least a couple of rebels amongst the brat pack. Without fail when all the mommas, fat and sassy from the lush Spring grass head back to the barn, the insurgents will head in the opposite direction. As an unconcerned momma sinks her head into dinner, disconnected juniors will be ensuring that Bran the Border Collie gets his evening exercise with three circuits of the pasture. The lambs get to be brats, Bran gets to play sheep dog and we get our routine half hour of panic…it’s all good. Then one day eventually and unexpectedly it all goes to plan… the mommas with compliant lambs at foot all point in the right direction, back to the barn. Sadly Bran the not too accomplished but very enthusiastic sheep dog hadn’t been forewarned today was “the” day or of the change of plan and as the ewes and lambs raced straight for a warm dry barn, unauthorized and very out of control, Bran raced for the field to round up the inevitable miscreants….that weren’t !! Round and round, tail waving like a banner, ears flat against his head Bran ran, clearly the dog was on a mission like every day that had gone before…but something was different, something had changed…. where were his lambs ? After several minutes and not a furry lambs tail to be found Bran screeched to a grinding halt, sat down and looked to Greg for direction. Poor Bran…one day Bran, one day it will all go to plan.
Time to wrap up, Bran has headed out to water a tree or three, the cuckoo clock has told us it’s past bedtime and 5am will come all too soon. Take care, keep safe, M
Every year as the formation eating team (sheep) and their lambs are turned out into the pasture we find at least a couple of rebels amongst the brat pack. Without fail when all the mommas, fat and sassy from the lush Spring grass head back to the barn, the insurgents will head in the opposite direction. As an unconcerned momma sinks her head into dinner, disconnected juniors will be ensuring that Bran the Border Collie gets his evening exercise with three circuits of the pasture. The lambs get to be brats, Bran gets to play sheep dog and we get our routine half hour of panic…it’s all good. Then one day eventually and unexpectedly it all goes to plan… the mommas with compliant lambs at foot all point in the right direction, back to the barn. Sadly Bran the not too accomplished but very enthusiastic sheep dog hadn’t been forewarned today was “the” day or of the change of plan and as the ewes and lambs raced straight for a warm dry barn, unauthorized and very out of control, Bran raced for the field to round up the inevitable miscreants….that weren’t !! Round and round, tail waving like a banner, ears flat against his head Bran ran, clearly the dog was on a mission like every day that had gone before…but something was different, something had changed…. where were his lambs ? After several minutes and not a furry lambs tail to be found Bran screeched to a grinding halt, sat down and looked to Greg for direction. Poor Bran…one day Bran, one day it will all go to plan.
Time to wrap up, Bran has headed out to water a tree or three, the cuckoo clock has told us it’s past bedtime and 5am will come all too soon. Take care, keep safe, M
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