Don’t Wear Sandals in the Pig Pen (Dummy)
We’ve been at the farm for pert-near four months now!
So you ask, “What do you have to show for it?”
My initial answer is, “Don’t be a bitch. Farming is hard,” and I might elaborate with, “And we’re not real farmers. That’s super hard.”
But we’ve done a few things we’re proud of since moving in at the end of March. First off, moving 10 years and 3 kids’ worth of shit from one house to another is an impressive feat on its own. It only took 3 men, 5 trips back and forth, and $1600. (Worth it.) But after the boxes were in their properly color-coded rooms (someone’s a Nazi about organization *hint: me*) and the children got out of my face for a day, the house was generally in manageable order, i.e. we knew where the beer, coffee, and toilet paper were.
One of the great things about my bald, hair metal-loving husband is that he doesn’t wait around for shit to get done. I will encourage him to get a tattoo across his forehead: “THIS IS HOW SHIT GETS DONE”. Because, by the beginning of June, we already had a small zoo enclosed in our barns.
We’ve had our beloved dog, Walter, since 2009, but we added a few friends. First came six chicks, which we brought home four days after we moved in. They were adorable at first, then got ugly, and now months later they are awesome. I’ve named them all, but only two of them stand out to me. Blanche Deveraux is very vain about her feathers and struts around the yard like a slut. And there’s big ol’ Dorothy Szbornak, who is, obviously, a bitch. The rest of them I can’t tell apart. (They’re CHICKENS. Sue me.)
When there was still snow on the ground, the kids and my husband came home with a barn cat.
Folks, I hate cats. My husband hates cats. We’ve trained Walter to chase cats out of the yard. But barn cats chase mice, and so we rescued Musa the Cat for free from a shelter.
On a very cold, rainy Sunday in early May, my husband came home from a local county fair with two potbelly pigs:
I have always loved pigs and wanted one as a pet. And now I have two.
But pigs are stinky. (Apparently I’m the only one surprised by this.) And yet so is my husband, and I still let him hang around.
Bill and Imogene do absolutely nothing but sit around and warm my heart.
Oh, and recently they started mating. So they’ve given us plenty of material for uncomfortable conversations with our eight-year-old son…
Also on sale at the county fair were three bunnies that our kids picked out.
Unfortunately, the brown bunny only lasted a day, and we buried him in the cemetery behind the barn.
It was an excellent opportunity to discuss farm life and how we’re hopefully going to outlive all our animals, and we can be sad and cry, but we must move on and be strong. Meanwhile, Gretta made fun of Grady’s dead rabbit until she realized how mean it was, and then they were all crying. #farmlife (PS – Grady received a new rabbit for his birthday in June.)
A month later, I pulled into the driveway to find two goats in the barn, which my husband got for free from a farm up the road. They had lame names, so I renamed them Holmes and Watson. They like to butt people in the ass.
So we have 15 animals on the farm now. But let’s make this clear:
Dog: Does nothing.
Pigs: Do nothing.
Rabbits: Do nothing.
Chickens: Have yet to produce eggs.
Goats: Eat the grass.
Cat: Kills mice and birds.
So far my husband is only impressed with the cat. She earns her keep and presents her kills to us on the back porch — a warning to all mice in the barn. Musa is a killer and therefore we love her.
Things I’ve Learned About Barn Animals:
- They are not dogs. They will not listen when you call them.
- They will take you down if they feel like it / if they’re hungry / if they’re feeling playful.
- They’ll take a dump on your shoes if you’re not careful. Hence –>
- Don’t wear sandals in the pig pen or the nickname “Shitfoot” will be enforced.
- Always approach animals with a treat of some sort, or they will do #1 – #3 (above).
There are tricks and secrets and methods and madness to taking care of barn animals, but I think I’ll save them for my next novel. After you have first-hand experience shoveling pig shit that gets on your bare skin even though you’re wearing boots, you just wanna share it with the world.
But PS – it’s not all hard work. There are beautiful moments (below), which is why we bought the farm. I think on these moments when the goats get loose, or when I’m in 90 degree weather chasing a chicken back into the coop, or when my kids tell me Daddy shot a raccoon six times because his gun isn’t big enough…
There. That’s better. Phew.
-5 Comments-
You always make me laugh! I love your stories.
You are insane.
Please take the gun away from Chuck.
“Shitfoot” is a wonderfully unique and endearing nickname – I hope all 5 of you get to wear that badge proudly at some point.
That was great! Shitfoot made us all laugh! Your husband may need a bigger gun!
“Shitfoot” is a wonderfully unique and endearing nickname. I hope all five of you get to wear that badge proudly at one point or another.