I started my day yesterday, being summoned by my 4 year old at the front screen door…
“Hurry, Mom, Dad needs you at the pigs!”
This is never good. It’s not like he just wants me to come socialize with him. And it’s before 8am, so it had better be serious if I’m meant to be up and dressed and headed out to do farm things. I don’t do farm things, especially before 8am. But even knowing it must be something relatively serious if Tom can’t resolve it on his own, what would I even begin to expect?
So I throw on some flip flops and head towards the pigs across the street. Well, truth be told, I started to head towards the cows because that’s where the pigs used to be. It’s hard to keep up around here. So I corrected course and headed towards the current pig location.
Upon arrival to the pasture gate, I see Thomas standing in the middle of all the pigs- who are eating ferociously- taking a video of the big feed bucket precariously on it’s side in the middle of the commotion. The pigs had obviously tipped it over and were now gorging themselves on what would have been a months worth of food. I mean, seriously, what pigs!
“What’s up?” I asked, seeing full well that there was no serious injury or bodily harm in either human or pork.
“We’ve got a pig in a bucket!” Tom responded.
Say what?
“A baby?” I asked. Although now looking back, that’s a stupid question. A baby would have been able to get in and out of the bucket without any issues. This was not a baby.
“Elsa,” He answered.
“Elsa is in that bucket?”
A nod and a smirk.
“I’ve got the wrong shoes on…”
So I high tailed back to the house, swapped my flip flops for my rubber farm boots, which do happen to be black with pink polka dots, and headed back to the pasture to aid in the Elsa Rescue Mission.
(Yes, there is a full grown momma pig in this bucket).
I straddled the bucket and held on with all my might, as Thomas attempted to grab ahold of Elsa’s back legs and pull her out. Other than scraping some of the top layer of Tom’s skin off his hands, we made zero progress.
But don’t worry. She wasn’t in distress. She was eating. Just eating away. I can’t be sure if she was scared when Tom pulled on her legs and struggled to get away, or if she legit didn’t want to come out of the bucket because she was front row buffet.
One way or another, the solution wound up being some very delicate chain saw operating and a now useless feed bucket. But Elsa lives to eat another day.
Always an adventure, I tell you what. What’s funny is, later that evening, I got all done up and headed up to Nashville to speak at another National Vice President’s meeting. When I was there, telling my story, I mentioned I lived in a small town, but somehow- I can’t even imagine how I failed to say it- I didn’t mention that I lived on a farm. I was speaking with a husband and wife after my little talk and it came up at that point that I was, in fact, a farmer. The gentleman looked at me- heels, hair and make up- and said he never would have guessed I lived on a farm. I laughed, and absolutely took it as a complement, but then told him how my day had started. #doublelife
In other news around the farm, we’ve added 40 baby guinea fowl to our flock of birds here. That brings us to 8477 feather friends (exaggeration). We are really up against a serious tick problem living on 84 acres of woods and pasture, and with two Golden Retrievers, it feels like the most constant issue we face. Well, we’ve changed their medication, but we’ve also upped our guinea game. Guinea fowl are good for not much else other than eating ticks as their primary food and being annoying. So 40 babies means come time for tick season to be over, we’ll have an army! Yea, it does feel like we’re always just a step behind.
But next year! Watch out ticks!
Last night, after upping our bird numbers, we lost at least 5 chickens to an unknown predator. It doesn’t happen all the time, but man, when those animals make their way to the barn, they really can do some pretty good damage. We had, at one point, over 20 adult guinea fowl, and in one fell swoop something killed about 8 of them! It’s frustrating and also fascinating how these animals can be so dang stealthy.
So to answer the question, how many birds do we actually have? I have zero clue. A lot.
The Middle Tennessee spring weather has been a dream this past month. Mostly sticking between the 70’s and 80’s and cooling down to the low 70’s in the evening… it’s my perfect weather window. Although it’s not quite hot enough to keep me from running in the afternoon, it’s also not really cool enough to do it either. It’s a delicate balance, but I’m just not as motivated to get it done (yet) first thing in the morning when I know the weather is going to be so beautiful all day. Today after my run, Ruger, who has become my running companion**, bless his heart, came right back into the yard and found the pool…
He’s not the only one finding relaxation and relief from the warm afternoons in our redneck backyard pool…
Tomorrow, we’re taking Grammy up to Nashville to show her the sights, starting with a 2 year old friend’s birthday party at the zoo! We plan to hit up the flea market- one of the biggest in the country, thank you very much- and find ourselves some dinner and live music. Cadence might have one more 1/2 day of Kindergarten in front of her, but we’re living the summer life over here. It’s a blessing. Thanks for stopping by!
** If you haven’t heard, I have made a ridiculously scary goal to raise $5000 for St. Jude’s Hospital by running (I am not a runner) a 1/2 marathon with sponsors. If you, or someone you know, would like to sponsor this run and support the kiddos, please do so here.