Fridays on the Farm… FREEDOM
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Hey everyone, Fuzzy Bear here. I recently heard the nastiest of rumor concerning a certain Great Pyrenees dog’s retirement. Rest assured, twelve years old is FAR too early for this Great Pyrenees to retire. I was lured inside in the heat of summer with promises of naps in front of box fans and I’ve been held captive ever since. Don’t let anyone tell you different. I wasn’t scared of any spring storms though they most assuredly are out to kill us all. I didn’t enjoy the cooling blasts of air conditioner even though they cooled me perfectly, even on the hottest of days. I didn’t have a hotspot requiring looking after and a horrible cone of shame. I didn’t covet an always full food bowl that I didn’t have to guard from the cats. Belly rubs, daily brushings, ear rubs, booty scratches… all of it just a ploy to keep me inside against my will. It was the Stockholm Syndrome that brought me to the windows scratching to get in when I was sent out to “do my business.” It wasn’t that I WANTED to be back inside, it was just that I was conditioned to think I BELONGED inside… such craziness. I’m wild and meant to be free!
Today I officially escaped! Just a coincidence I suppose that it was a perfectly crisp 70 degree fall day. I was let out to do my business as usual and I just flat out refused to come back inside. Who knew it was that easy? I’m free again!
I looked around the farm as if seeing it for the very first time. Things had gone downhill since I had been inside through the summer. Ducks were waddling around all willy nilly in the goat enclosure, turkeys and chickens were spending way too much time on the lower farm when there was summer garden to clear in the upper farm, guinea pigs and rabbits had multiplied, the buck goat was in full rut, the pigs were feisty, guineas were scouring neighboring woods for ticks instead of our own, and there were a million new chicks!
Where to start? I spent the first couple hours figuring out how to get the ducks out of the goat enclosure… what a puzzle. Of course the ducks thought I was going to eat them so they scattered when I came up behind them. It’s easier to herd them when they stay in a group… or so I’ve been told by our resident German Shepherds. I’m a livestock guardian dog, not a herder. There was a learning curve and I must admit I had to take some rest breaks along the way. I believe Farmer Lady calls these “coffee breaks” and she insists on them. I don’t know what coffee is but I like the idea of the “break” part of it. It was then I found one of our ducks had been adopted by Mama Banty with her newest clutch of chicks. I shook my head in disbelief. We once had a guinea (not a guinea pig… two very different animals!) who thought she was a horse. She refused to range with the other guineas and instead stayed with the horses and adopted all the horse behaviors. Birds are weird! I guess horses are too because I think they thought she was a horse too.
After I got the ducks back to their enclosure and secured I moved my attention to the turkeys and chickens. Farmer Lady was WAY behind the farm curve with getting the summer veggies cleared out and the fall garden completely planted. Some things were in here and there but there were still tomatoes and jalapenos on the plants… what had she been doing? Well, I know what she had been doing because I watched her do it. She had been cleaning her bedroom for the last bunch of days and then she had to clean the rest of the house because she had moved a bunch of stuff out of the bedroom and into other rooms… I guess that’s her definition of “getting rid of stuff.” I made her promise not to touch my coveted box fan. Well, I couldn’t get the chickens and turkeys in the main garden with produce still in there so I moved them into the secondary garden to clear some weeds out of there.
I sat and watched the new chicks for a while… those little fluffs of furry fluffiness are adorable! Usually when I sit and “guard” the chicks the cats are rubbing all over me but today they were totally leaving me alone. How odd. Then the wind shifted ever so slightly and I caught a whiff of something quite vile. A musty smell yet pungent in its sourness… it filled my nostrils. I got up and moved a bit to my left but it seemed the smell was there too. I walked slowly around to the other side of the chick cage and the smell seemed to follow me. That’s when I realized the smell was ME! Suddenly it dawned on me… rounding the ducks up in the goat enclosure. Casper, the buck goat, was in full rut and he must have rubbed against me without me even knowing it because his smell had permeated my fir. Disgusting! Retirement is looking more and more alluring each day!
How in the world would I get this smell off? An honest to goodness bath was out of the question because that would require me to go inside… that’s not happening! Maybe if I found a nice deer carcass in the woods I could roll in that and get this horrible buck goat smell off? Unfortunately I knew of no deer carcasses in the woods at the moment. Ooh, the neighbor’s lake! Yes, I’ll take a dip in the lake, that has to work!
I loped off to the lake, giving the goats an evil eye as I went past their enclosure, they deserved it… well at least Casper did.. A few guinea pigs started following me just past the barn but I waved them off reminding them open spaces like the lake are no places for perfect hawk food. They readily agreed. I was able to make quick introductions with some of the new babies who, by the way, are positively adorable… for a rodent.
The lake was still deliciously warm from the long summer rays and I glided in like a like stealthy gator. I dipped down in to make sure to cover all my fur and climbed back out by the dock… not the best idea as I had to climb up over rocks and let’s just say it wasn’t as graceful as my entrance.
As I headed back to the farm I came to the unfortunate realization that instead of washing me clean the lake had simply shifted my “buck goat stench” to “wet buck goat stench” which was no improvement. One might even say it was worse. Oh well, I have no one to impress.
I checked in with the cats… which by the way have increased in numbers as well! We are now the proud owners of two dumpster kitties. Why does Farmer Lady do this? Actually it was Gunner, her son who did this. He brought home two little kittens that were rescued out of the local Dairy Queen dumpster and they are quite content to live inside and drive us all absolutely bonkers! Another very obvious reason why I had to get out of there! Ever had two kittens think your tail is their personal chase toy? It’s no fun and it never ends… I think those kittens needed to take more coffee breaks and just simmer down. Chicken and Midnight Fudge are their names… weird names but who am I to judge? The cats all have very weird names.
OK, back to checking in with the outside cats. I called a meeting of the minds and everyone showed up except Cinnamon, Dr. Steve Matron, OG Shadow, and Captain Lucky Jack Aubrey… probably off hunting… I had seen them earlier in the morning so I wasn’t worried. I was very surprised to see Kitty Soft Paws at the meeting because last I knew she was shunning me due to an unfortunate disagreement (yes, I may have lost my temper) about whether or not it is appropriate to eat baby bunnies (he says yes, I say no and I may or may not have made my thoughts known when I rescued a baby bunny from his jaws a few months ago.) Farmer Lady wasn’t thrilled with either of us because she had no idea where the nest was and had to bottle feed this baby bunny day and night “forever” (her word, not mine) until it was weaned and able to head up in a safe enclosure to grow a bit more before release.
Where was I? Oh yes, back to the cat meeting. With most everyone in attendance there was a lot to cover. It seemed each cat had a list of grievances a mile long and there was talk of unionizing. First and foremost, the teenager chickens were getting a bit big for their britches and attempting to challenge many of their cats to their meals of mice, moles, voles, frogs, and even snakes! The cats were livid that they couldn’t eat their kill in peace. “If the chickens want a mouse they should hunt and kill their own mouse in the fields like I do!” shouted Tres from the back row. I calmly explained what all the cats already knew, the big open field is no place for the chickens. Hawks and eagles will swoop down and get them lickity split. It was all our jobs to protect the more “vulnerable” animals of the farm… there was a roar of laughter. Apparently the cats weren’t as on board with farm protection as I had hoped. We moved on (without really finding any solution to the chickens bothering the cats at mealtime… shhh… don’t tell the cats) to the ducks using the cats’ water bucket down by the house entrance. This was a big deal because the ducks are disgusting sloppy drinkers no matter if they’ve had one drink or ten! According to the cats (and I can confirm this is true) the ducks eat then go directly to drinking and as they drink they expel half of whatever they’ve just eaten into the water they are drinking. Quite unpleasant and just plane rude if you are using someone else’s water bowl. I assured the cats that the ducks would be kept in their enclosure and I would see about moving up “lane fence” on Farmer Lady’s “to do” list so the ducks wouldn’t come down to the house even if they were free ranging. The rest of the meeting went on much the same… some problems I was able to provide a solution and others glossed over and changed the subject without the cats realizing no solution had been given. Full notes for farm therapy session number 756 can be found in the “waiting to be typed up by Farmer Lady” inbox, available upon request (after Farm Lady types them up.)
Well, I better get going as there is still so much to do! I feel like I haven’t even filled you in on a fraction of what is going on but we always have next week! Until then, watch out for those buck goats, try to keep your ducks in a row… or at least in sight… or at least in their right enclosure… ugh, just try to keep your ducks alive! See ya and all that jazz!
~Fuzzy Bear… Great Pyrenees extraordinaire