![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/07\/pasture-pen.jpg\" "\\"pasture")
<\/a><\/p>\nBut it was useful in a pinch as a breeding pen or quarantine area for new animals.\u00a0 And because it had a fence around it we didn’t have to mow it or landscape the area.\u00a0 The fence made it a “pasture.”\u00a0 You don’t landscape a pasture, people.\u00a0 That’s craziness.<\/p>\n
Of course, every year the brush eventually grew to intolerable heights and, worse, vines started growing on the fence line.\u00a0 Since the entire point of the pasture was to make it a low maintenance space, we just put the goats on it and they always munched it back into submission.\u00a0 But this year, The Other Half was determined to convert the land into a real pasture.\u00a0 With grass.\u00a0 Grass to cut the feed bills for the sheep and the fat pony.\u00a0 I was all for this development.\u00a0 Until he started it in May.<\/p>\n
“Nope, no way,”\u00a0 I told him.\u00a0 “You can’t grow grass in May.”<\/p>\n
I typically handle the raking, seeding, and fertilizing of the pathetic “lawns” in the shady front and back yard.\u00a0 I’ve learned the hard way that the only chance at growing grass in the south is planting in the fall and then overseeding it in March.\u00a0 Even then the timing can be tricky.\u00a0 If the grass isn’t fully established before the leaf drop you risk either pulling out tender starts with the rake or the new grass getting smothered by the leaf debris.\u00a0 Planting winter rye after the leaves are raked and gone doesn’t resolve the issue because if there are heavy winter rains the seed will get washed off our hillside long before it sprouts.\u00a0 And some springs it gets so hot and dry so fast that any grass that grows withers and dies anyway.\u00a0 I’ve reseeded after rain more times than I care to remember and spent too many Aprils frantically watering new grass when heat arrives early.<\/p>\n
But The Other Half persevered.\u00a0 He leveled the hillside with the tractor and moved topsoil into place.\u00a0 Which, for the record, is cheating.\u00a0 Then after seeding the space, he covered it with straw to hold it in place and conserve water.\u00a0 Which, for the record, is showing off.<\/p>\n
But still I shook my head sadly.<\/p>\n “No way that’s gonna survive.\u00a0 It’s May.\u00a0 Better roll a hose along the driveway.\u00a0 You’re gonna need it.”<\/p>\n Then we had a lovely spring of 80 degree days interspersed with gentle rain showers for several weeks.\u00a0 Which was exactly what it took to grow a pasture.<\/p>\n Too bad the country frowns upon grass.\u00a0 The country hates grass.\u00a0 The country says, “This ain’t the suburbs, you yuppie.”\u00a0 So after a few weeks of beautiful grass, we had this:<\/p>\n Which upon closer inspection,\u00a0 is this:<\/p>\n and this:<\/p>\n and a whole lot of this:<\/p>\n So before the sheep and fat pony were put out to graze, the bucks were called into action.\u00a0 The bucks are normally confined to a wooded section of land in the back corner of the property.\u00a0 Boring.<\/p>\n I knew they’d enjoy a chance to browse down the weeds, leaving the grass intact.\u00a0 The only problem was that putting the bucks in the new pasture required a quick inspection of the fence line.<\/p>\n “Make sure you don’t wear flip flops when you’re walking that fence line,”\u00a0 instructed The Other Half before leaving for work.<\/p>\n Please.<\/p>\n As soon as I finished the morning milking, completed the barn chores, and fed the pigs, I tossed a spare water trough into the pasture and used the garden hose to let it fill.\u00a0 I scanned the fence that ran along the driveway and then paused at the start of the woods where the fence ran along the property line.\u00a0 I thought about going back up the driveway and into the house for my boots.\u00a0 But I decided walking slowly and carefully in flip flops was just as safe as wearing boots.\u00a0 Probably.\u00a0 Maybe.\u00a0 Eh.\u00a0 What were the odds that I wouldn’t see a copperhead on this ground before he saw me?<\/p>\n I moved cautiously into the woods, watching my feet.\u00a0 I immediately realized my first mistake as a spiderweb spread across my face, probably releasing its spider into my ear to lay eggs and cause spider babies to come out my tear ducts in a couple weeks.\u00a0 I wanted to run but I couldn’t run because I had on flip flops and I couldn’t check for snakes and run at the same time.\u00a0 I settled for waving my arms frantically around my face to clear the spiderweb while making scared grunting noises.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 When I peeled the last strand of web off my hair, I waited to catch my breath and congratulated myself on not panicking and rushing into a snakebite.\u00a0 Although, on second thought, the furious arm-waving was a bit risky, too.\u00a0 There have been several large yellow jacket nests in these woods and I certainly didn’t want to risk pissing off a nest of bees by flailing around.<\/p>\n I slowly and carefully removed a branch from the ground to use as a web catcher and, holding it in front of my face, continued to advance to where I could see the fence in the tree line.\u00a0 I kept one eye on the ground for snakes and one eye on the branch for any angry spiders.\u00a0 Which didn’t leave a lot of vision left for checking the fence.\u00a0 Checking the fence in the woods is more complicated than most people expect.<\/p>\n I arrived at a pile of leftover topsoil The Other Half had pushed into the edge of the woods that was blocking my path.\u00a0 It was filled with lots of suspicious holes.<\/p>\n Snakes like holes in soft dirt.\u00a0 Yellow jackets like holes in soft dirt.\u00a0 I skirted the very edge of the pile and carefully climbed along the ridge where I could still see the fence line.\u00a0 I had just survived the alarming sinking of my flip flops into the the top inch of soil when a loud buzzing began around my head.<\/p>\n “No!”\u00a0 I yelled, waving my branch.\u00a0 “No!\u00a0 You can’t scare me.\u00a0 I know the sound of a horsefly when I hear one.\u00a0 You’re not a yellow jacket.\u00a0 Beat it!”\u00a0 I caught a flash of his green eyes in my peripheral vision.\u00a0 “Scram!”\u00a0 I yelled, taking a vigorous swing in his direction.\u00a0 Which is when something bit me on the back of the knee.<\/p>\n A part of my brain told me that was a little too high for snake bite.\u00a0 Another part of my brain mentioned the fact that since I felt the bite through the material of my old maternity leggings used for barn chores it was probably more serious than just the bite of a horsefly.\u00a0 A third particularly annoying part of my brain recalled that time I pounded a T-post into an underground yellow jackets nest and I had to rip off my shirt and throw it aside as I raced up the driveway because the bees got under my clothes.\u00a0 Regardless, all 3 parts were left behind to discuss it amongst themselves as I charged screaming through the woods, dropping my branch, my flip flops kicking through leaf piles, and spiderwebs building up in my contact lenses as a fourth part of my brain sighed in disappointment and said, “So much for watching for copperheads.”<\/p>\n I might have made it out of the woods and into safety.\u00a0 Maybe.\u00a0 Probably.\u00a0 But I was stopped cold at the Rock Wall O’ Hidden Danger.\u00a0 There have been many occasions when The Other Half had a tractor to work on some heavy chores and offered to dig out a section of large old boulders nestled in the woods.\u00a0 But I’ve always told him to leave them alone.\u00a0 Because they’re “pretty” and “natural” and “they add winter interest when the leaves are down.”<\/p>\n I’ve regretted it every time I have to scout the fence line and climb over a bunch of slippery-slided rocks with their bases hidden in leaves and fallen tree limbs.\u00a0 Regardless, no matter how much of my frontal lobe I left on that dirt pile, my reptilian brain slammed on the brakes at the sight of that death trap.<\/p>\n I stood there, trying to listen for buzzing over my pounding heart rate while the rest of my brain caught up and analyzed the situation.\u00a0 Yep, the buzzing was gone.\u00a0 The webs draped over my face and in my hair did not appear to contain any murderous spiders.\u00a0 My feet were, miraculously, unharmed.\u00a0 BUT.\u00a0 Whatever bit me was still lodged against the back of my knee.\u00a0 And it was<\/em> inside my clothing.\u00a0 While I was still flooded with enough adrenaline to manage it, I slapped my hand against the intruder, pinning it to my leg in an attempt to squash it before it struck again.<\/p>\n It didn’t squash but it didn’t bite me again either.\u00a0 Through the fabric of my old maternity leggings I could feel a hard shield-shaped shell.\u00a0 I pinched it between my fingers to keep it off my skin and kill it, but it still wouldn’t squash.<\/p>\n “A beetle!”\u00a0 determined my brain.\u00a0 “There’s a freakin’ beetle in my pants!”<\/p>\n And my brain went into Google Panic.\u00a0 Which is like Google except there are no reassuring answers, just scary questions.\u00a0 Like:<\/p>\n And:<\/p>\n And:<\/p>\n And:<\/p>\n With no other options, I kept the beetle pinned with one hand while I used the other hand to slide my leggings up to my knee.\u00a0 I slowly and carefully lifted the cotton fabric over my pinched fingers, then dropped the beetle to the ground and quickly took a few steps away.\u00a0 It fell to the ground and didn’t move.\u00a0 I leaned over and peered closer.<\/p>\n It was tiny chunk of dog biscuit.<\/p>\n There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for that.<\/p>\n See, every morning when I do the barn chores, I bring the Great Pyrs, Bella and Bruno, a dog biscuit from the box in the kitchen pantry.\u00a0 I don’t give them the biscuit until after they’ve eaten their dog food.\u00a0 I just put the biscuits in my pants pocket for later and usually, while I’m milking, Bella and Bruno finish eating and line up at the milk gate for their treat.\u00a0 Then I hand them each a biscuit and thank them for taking care of the critters overnight.\u00a0 When I wear my old maternity leggings (which don’t have pockets) I just stick the biscuits under the elastic waist band.\u00a0 A biscuit crumb must have been left under the waistband after I passed out dog biscuits that morning.\u00a0 The vigorous branch-waving at the horsefly must have dislodged it, causing it to fall down to the back of my knee, where it got stuck again.\u00a0 And in my hyper-excitable fence-checking state it felt like it “bit” me.<\/p>\n As to why I’m still wearing old maternity leggings when my youngest child is ten years old, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for that, too.<\/p>\n Um……, actually, no.\u00a0 Nope. Got nothing.\u00a0 Eh.<\/p>\n Relieved it was just a piece of biscuit, I climbed over the rocks and completed my fence inspection.\u00a0 Turned out there was just one spot where I had to dislodge a tree branch and use some baling twine to tie the field fencing back to the T-post.\u00a0 And bringing the bucks over wasn’t too difficult.\u00a0 Since Oliver was the first one, he had to be dragged over.\u00a0 Goats are herd animals and even a nice fresh pasture isn’t appealing if you’re the only goat in it.\u00a0 But T.S. and Merlin trotted easily beside me when I went back to the barn to get them.\u00a0 They could hear Oliver bellowing and were greatly concerned.\u00a0 Or else they were pissed because he got a new pasture and they didn’t and that situation needed to be remedied immediately.\u00a0 Hard to tell with bucks.\u00a0 Either way, moving the bucks to the field was done in a few minutes and the bucks got to work quickly.<\/p>\n T.S. went straight to the offensive honeysuckle on the fence.<\/p>\n Merlin started on the wild muscadine.<\/p>\n And Oliver munched on lespedeza.<\/p>\n I leaned on the fence and watched the bucks enjoy the new space for a long time.<\/p>\n They were having a field day.<\/p>\n And even though it feels good to check off the many important aspects of animal care on a farm—-feed and vitamins, shelter, vaccinations, hoof trims, etc—-it feels really, really good to provide something new and exciting for the critters that spend most of their time in the same humdrum location.\u00a0 Listening to them munching peacefully and watching them explore the pasture was good for the heart.\u00a0 And getting the pasture cleared of weeds while giving the bucks a good time was an awesome farm two-fer.<\/p>\n While I was standing there I noticed that behind me the pigs had found even another use for the weeds we threw in their pen a few days ago.\u00a0 Once all the yummy parts were chewed off they had pushed the remains into a nice pile for lounging.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n