Never Taunt The Check Sign-er

A regular Saturday on the farm includes Thadd cutting down trees, doing other manly jobs, and wearing himself out for the next four days.  Today he added another task to his list.  First, the text message from my neighbor came through shortly after I had left to take Chloe to her last day of cooking classes.  "All ok over there?"  is the message that popped on my screen.  Normally I would not worry about a message like this except I have a laboring goat and a husband home alone with said goat.  Thadd isn't the person you would send to deliver a goat.  Blood isn't his specialty.

waiting and waiting and waiting

I immediately call my neighbor and inquire as to why she was concerned.  She said, "Well, I heard a gunshot coming from your property."  "Oh, it was probably the neighbors." I reply.  I hang up with her to call my husband.  He had to have heard the gunshot and will be able to clear the air.  "Hey Babe,  did you hear a gunshot?" "No, I MADE a gunshot."  He precedes to tell me the story of a naughty rooster who was stalking and attacking all of the hens as they entered the hen house to lay their eggs.  He chased the rooster out of the coop multiple times until he became so frustrated he fetched the shotgun.  After chasing the rooster around the woodpile, the rooster was sure he had outsmarted my husband.  He jumped on the top of the woodpile, fluffed his feathers and cocked his head as if to say, "Ha!  Suckaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"  Thadd pulled the trigger and the chicken went flying backwards, feathers going every which way with a smile growing across Thadd's face.  Victory.  As he told his story of defeating the giant, uh, rooster, I was understanding yet sad.  I hatched that rooster in my hand.  He was naughty, but couldn't we have sold him instead?  Likely not to anyone who wasn't a closet cock fighter!  Ugh.  The life of a rooster is very chancy.

After he tells me the rooster story he tells me that my goat is rolling around on the floor, moaning.  I call my neighbor and she hurries over to check the situation.  I call back twenty minutes later and he reports, "It is fine.  She is walking around now."  Nonetheless I am running errands for the next three or four hours worrying about my laboring goat.  Yes, the one who has been in labor all week!!  I've written a bad report in her birthing journal.  Yes, my goat has a birthing journal.  The entry says, "Goat has Braxton Hicks and is a high maintenance pregnant goat."  She will likely have them when I'm at work. Oh well, my dreams of delivering goat babies for Spring Break have been dashed!

Brett spent the day with his uncle.  Last night he spent the night in a tent in their living room and then got up early this morning to go fishing.  His uncle threatened to give his Red Bull, but after he witnessed the effects of normal sugar he avoided the Red Bull.  He returned Brett later today with the fillets of 22 catfish.  I will be thankful for anyone who has a GOOD catfish recipe.  At some point in the afternoon I received a phone call from his uncle that said, "We're on our way to the house.  Even Calvin(the dog) is worn out."  That is my sweet Brett.

As I delivered the newly purchased tomato plants, spinach plants, and blackberry bush to the garden I happened to pass the pile of rooster feathers from the morning's chase.  I'm always sad to see a zoo member depart, but it is never a good idea to taunt the check sign-er;  I'm merely the zookeeper.

Tomorrow is a new day.  Tomorrow is also St. Patrick's Day.  I suggest you wear something green tomorrow to avoid being pinched.  I am thankful for the kind uncle who invested time in Brett (Day 90).  Goodnight Friends.