So, as it happens on occasion, I was once again in charge of chores on the farm. Once again, the chores required a "come and see" versus a list of what to do. It makes life much easier to see where the second pen of goats are versus trying to determine which pen of six is referred to as "the second pen."
While there were no major calamities to speak of and no strenuous work outs to be had (as it was not 10 below zero, there were no rickety ladders that required climbing and no hay bales needed toted across the road) it was still a learning experience.
I (or I should say we as my half hindered hubby came to help) arrived at the farm (aka Little Missouri according to my older brother--who of course, was in Vegas an unable to chore) and hubs hopped on the tractor to retrieve a big bale of hay while I tended to the goats, chickens, rabbits, cats, overweight Corgi and Chester the farm dog.
Upon entering the first pen of goats, I managed to see a flash of black and white out of the corner of my eye and hurried to shut the door before Chester could follow me in, as there is a rouge rabbit who escaped from his pen and has decided to "find his inner show goat" and live in the barn. There was really not much work to do here, as they are on a self feeder. So I gave Milkshakes the goat some love and refilled a water bucket.
I approached the second two pens of goats, albeit with reservation as the Cock of the Walk came strutting around the corner with a murderous gleam in his eye...damn you Ashley and your "free range" rooster. Thankfully, Chester was still in tow, and while the two peacefully coexist, they still stay out of each other's way, and the rooster headed the other way.
This is where feeding the goats gets interesting. If you've never been around goats, let me tell you a few things...1) When it comes to feeding time, goats will act like the giant Koi at the zoo when you happen to hock a loogie into the water. To the uninitiated, it can be frightening as it appears as though they will jump the fence and come at you in an effort to get a mouthful of grain. 2) Billy Goats make very strange noises...seriously its like meshing an alley cat getting raped by the neighborhood tom cat with an overly vocal pornstar and a little Janet Leigh from "Psycho" thrown in for good measure. Again, to the uninitiated, its terrifying.
After the goats were fed it was off to the chicken coop..a mere two steps from the goat pen. The rooster was still contemplating whether or not to give me a peck or two, but for the most part he just casually observed my movements, as if he were going to file his report with Andy and Ashley when they returned. All I had to do with the chickens was check the feed and water situation and gather the eggs. I got two explanations as to how I was to do this, as there are two old nesting hens who no longer lay, but nest on as many eggs as they can and they do not appreciate you taking their "babies." The first explanation as to how to accomplish the egg gathering was to, "just talk to them in a soothing voice. Let them know its okay and that you're just going to reach under here and grab the eggs and things will be just fine. Just keep talking to them. The more you communicate with them, the easier it will be." The second explanation I got was, "I throw my hat over their heads then just reach under and grab the eggs."
I'll let you guess whose explanation was whose and which route I chose. (Psstt...I wear a ball cap while choring for a reason.)
Now here's where the learning happened. I was unaware that there would be so many eggs to gather. I was relieved that I had a hat I could put them in as there was no graceful way to carry 20 eggs. By the time I was finished gathering and was starting to exit, four or five hens had found their way to my vicinity and were waiting by the door..crickets reside under the door and they were waiting for me to open it back up and pounce on a snack. As I opened the door, trying to keep the chickens in with one leg and the dog out with the other, my 20 eggs became 19. At this point I learned that chickens are cannibalistic little bastards. Those hens swarmed on that broken egg like the aforementioned Koi fish and lapped up every last drop of their coop mate's embryo. It was almost more frightening than the Billy Goat mating call.
Trying not to shudder, I left the chicken coop in search of an egg carton. While I didn't find one, I did find a box and more importantly, a beer. I checked the last two pens of goats and made sure rabbit number two was comfortable in his two story condo, before helping the hubby feed the calves and we called it a night.
Cannibalistic chickens, just another one of my many learning experiences we have in Blondie's Barnyard.
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