{"id":142,"date":"2009-07-06T17:46:23","date_gmt":"2009-07-07T00:46:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/farmingforprofits.com\/?p=142"},"modified":"2010-03-14T04:52:57","modified_gmt":"2010-03-14T11:52:57","slug":"the-weaker-sex-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/?p=142","title":{"rendered":"The Weaker Sex"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>So, I arrived last night at my friend’s farm to milk and guess what I
\nfound?\u00a0 8 happy males loose in the all-female (obviously) milking herd.\u00a0 Turns out
\nthe little stinkers (and I do mean stinkers—they like to wear their
\nown urine as cologne) broke the bottom hinge on their gate.\u00a0 The small
\nNigerian males slipped right through, leaving the large Nubian males
\nbehind to sulk and fume.\u00a0 As cool as it was to see the little guy come
\nout on top, so to speak, the exasperated looks on the girls’ faces let
\nme know it was time to put the boys back in their proper pen.<\/p>\n

Now the milking herd has a large pasture with lots of outbuildings and
\ntrash mountains to play in and on. There are tons of things to climb
\non or under out of the farmer’s reach.\u00a0 This is not a problem as, being
\nfemale, the herd is sweet and compliant, lines up and ambles into the
\nbarn for some grain and some milking time.\u00a0 Stragglers do not run away
\nand hide but are generally just waiting for a personal invitation.\u00a0 They
\nbat their eyelashes as if to say “Well, I wondered when you would notice
\nthat I wasn’t around!!” and after a couple of scratches under the chin
\ncome on in.\u00a0 Hey, every girl needs some attention.<\/p>\n

However, I figured I was in for a rough time putting those boys away.
\nAfter all, they had a strong incentive to stay loose and there was only
\none of me.\u00a0 I pictured myself chasing them endlessly around and around,
\nsighed, and set off to do it.\u00a0 But to my surprise I had them all locked
\nup in no time at all.\u00a0 How did I do it?\u00a0 Turns out males of all species
\nare subject to the same downfalls:
\n*names have been changed to protect the horny, um, I mean, innocent.<\/p>\n

Sexism<\/span>:
\nEveryone else eyed me suspiciously and sidled away. But not Spike*. As
\na lowly milkmaid, I was just a woman placed there to serve his harem.
\nHe had nothing to fear and, indeed, it was below him to even acknowledge
\nmy presence.\u00a0 Only when I touched his collar did he look up and then he
\nsimply snorted in disgust and started to walk off.\u00a0 Too bad he was on
\nthe tight end of the choker.\u00a0 This is how we moved up in corporate
\nAmerica, boys.\u00a0 One minute we were typing your reports and the next
\nminute we had your job.\u00a0 Turns out we were actually busy typing our own
\nreport while failing to fix the misspellings in yours.\u00a0 Night, night, Spike.<\/p>\n

Lust<\/span>:
\nBoyd* was prepared to make a run for it.\u00a0 He dashed past me when I first
\nreached for him.\u00a0 But just when I thought we were in for an all-out
\nchase, Lady Adda Lily strolled by and Boyd was dumbstruck.\u00a0 Her long
\nNubian legs and soft floppy ears stopped him in tracks.\u00a0 He tried to
\ncall out to her, but all he manged was a little slobber.\u00a0 There was
\nnothing is his world except him, her, a dark corner of the barn yard
\nand, oh yeah, me scooping him up and carrying him to his pen.\u00a0 Thank
\nyou, Lady Adda Lily.<\/p>\n

Overconfidence<\/span>: (for Nigerians, due to their small stature, this is
\nalso known as Napolean complex)
\nHe thought he could take me.\u00a0 Really.\u00a0 Standing at 3 feet tall, Hardy*
\nlowered his head and took a fighting stance.\u00a0 Obviously, he forgot
\nsomeone disbudded (dehorned) him at about 5 weeks old.\u00a0 He gave a good charge,
\nthough, and the ladies seemed impressed until he bounced off my knee.
\nStill, I have to give him credit.\u00a0 He held himself proud and erect over
\nmy shoulder as I carried him off, no pathetic struggles for him.
\nProbably even told the boys he ordered me to take him back to his room.
\n“That’ll do, milkmaid, that’ll do.”<\/p>\n

Learned helplessness<\/span>:
\nThere’s a gate that opens into the barn where the hay is kept.\u00a0 It’s
\nalways kept open a bit so the girls can help themselves to a snack if
\nthey want.\u00a0 Mickey* headed straight for that gate with grand plans to
\nhide among the hay rolls.\u00a0 I could almost hear him laughing as he
\nimagined me squeezing through gaps in the hay, squealing at spiderwebs
\nand praying it was too cold for snakes.\u00a0 Quite pleased with himself, he
\nrushed up to the gate and stood there.\u00a0 And stood there some more.\u00a0 And
\nwaited for someone to open the gate for him.\u00a0 After all, someone always
\nopens gates for him, he’s never had to do it himself.\u00a0 His job is to
\nwant something and someone else’s job is to figure it out and do it for
\nhim.\u00a0 He would have gone around to the opening in the gate but he wasn’t
\nsure where the opening was.\u00a0 Doesn’t matter that he’s lived on the farm
\nfor his entire life, how was he supposed to know where the opening was?
\nHe tried to look around for the opening but he couldn’t see it by
\nstanding in one spot and looking straight ahead.\u00a0 So he never made it
\ninto the safety of the hay.\u00a0 Better luck next time, Mickey.<\/p>\n

Overindulgence<\/span>:
\nGeorge* didn’t even get up from where he was laying on his side in the
\ngoat stall.\u00a0 He couldn’t get up.\u00a0 He’d had 12 hours of unlimited access
\nto the opposite sex.\u00a0 He’d been “up” all day, so to speak.\u00a0 Enough said.<\/p>\n

Stupid friends<\/span>:
\nBlackjack* and Winston* never even heard me coming.\u00a0 They had been
\nbutting heads, literally, all day.\u00a0 Each was convinced he was the
\nstrongest and determined to prove it.\u00a0 Their ears were ringing from all
\nthose collisions but they refused to give up.\u00a0 It had started out as a
\nlittle friendly competition—a couple joking remarks, a little push and
\nshove— but now reputations were at stake.\u00a0 Never mind, everyone else
\nwas having fun with the girls while they were hashing things out.\u00a0 A
\nman’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.\u00a0 I only had to walk one of them
\nback to the pen.\u00a0 The other one just followed along trying to get in
\nsneak attacks.\u00a0 Too stupid to even save himself.\u00a0 Don’t you love men?!<\/p>\n

Hunger<\/span>:
\nThe last one was smart enough to hide under the barn. Huck* knew there
\nwas no way in hell I was climbing under there.\u00a0 So he just climbed under
\nand waited me out.\u00a0 He knew I had to milk the ladies sometime.\u00a0 And
\nwhile I milked some, he played with the others.\u00a0 When I came out between
\nmilkings, he slipped back under the barn.\u00a0 Too bad when I put the grain
\nout he made a beeline for the dinner bowls.\u00a0 And he was so busy hogging
\nmore than his fair share of food, he was an easy catch.\u00a0 Turns out he’s
\na bad multi-tasker (surprise, surprise) and just couldn’t chew and run
\nat the same time.\u00a0 Grandma always said the way to a man was through his
\nstomach.\u00a0 Off we go, Huck.<\/p>\n

So, all’s well that end’s well.\u00a0 The boys had their fun, the girls have
\nbeen rescued.\u00a0 And I probably haven’t told you anything about men you
\ndidn’t already know.<\/p>\n

\u00a9<\/span> Stevie Taylor 2010. All Rights Reserved.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

So, I arrived last night at my friend’s farm to milk and guess what I found?\u00a0 8 happy males loose in the all-female (obviously) milking herd.\u00a0 Turns out the little stinkers (and I do mean stinkers—they like to wear their own urine as cologne) broke the bottom hinge on their gate.\u00a0 The small Nigerian males […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[18],"class_list":["post-142","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-goats"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=142"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":652,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/142\/revisions\/652"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=142"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=142"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=142"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}