{"id":519,"date":"2010-03-01T07:40:48","date_gmt":"2010-03-01T14:40:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/?p=519"},"modified":"2010-03-17T10:20:20","modified_gmt":"2010-03-17T17:20:20","slug":"moving-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/?p=519","title":{"rendered":"Moving Day"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"\"\"<\/a>I can only guess what other people do on Saturdays.<\/p>\n

If you live in a suburb, you probably sit by your kitchen window, sipping coffee, and watching what your neighbors are up to.\u00a0 As in, wonder if Rob-next-door will take out that huge pile of trash in the garage or spend the day washing his car?\u00a0 (I know.\u00a0 Who washes their car?\u00a0 But I have heard it is big in the subdivisions.)\u00a0 Or, will Carrie-down-the-street come out to get her newspaper in her hot pink sweatsuit or, please God, no, that horrifying moo-moo no one wants to see ever again but can’t look away from?\u00a0 Also, who will go by walking their dog (a necessity) and who will go by jogging with their dog (an activity favored by the sick and twisted trying to make one feel guilty for the 6 tablespoons of caramel mocha flavored creamer in one’s coffee)?\u00a0 I can see how this would be a fascinating way to relax.\u00a0 I mean, why would you need facebook if you live in a neighborhood?<\/p>\n

If you live in the city, you probably sit on a park bench feeding the rats.\u00a0 I assume you do this because I see it on the movies all the time.\u00a0 I think city people refer to the rats as “squirrels.” They don’t realize they are actually rats because they have limited exposure to wildlife and, therefore, view the vermin around them with a sympathetic eye.\u00a0 Just so you know those cute, cuddly rats breed in the city then send their ever-expanding families out to the country where they terrorize the locals.\u00a0 We’re talking not a day goes by without the bird feeder being assaulted by a rat battalion and if you leave the car door open while unloading groceries you will return to find a rat in your granola.\u00a0 I won’t even mention all the good, solid country dogs driven to muttering, drooling insanity by the rat escapades in their back yards.\u00a0 Well, I did mention it, but I will spare you the horrific details of their slow slide into madness.\u00a0 How do you rat-feeding city people sleep at night?<\/p>\n

Around here, Saturday tends to be moving day.\u00a0 And I don’t mean moving my daily Waterford china off the table to make room for the weekend Wedgwood.\u00a0 (Hey, just because I don’t actually own china doesn’t mean I don’t know what kinds there are.\u00a0 I have Google, too, you know.)\u00a0 No, a bright sunny weekend is perfect for moving the bedding in the barn down to the garden.\u00a0 Kind of like changing the sheets for the livestock.\u00a0 After all,\u00a0 nothing says “a day off” like dealing with big piles of poop.<\/p>\n

But just like watching the neighbors or feeding the rats in the city park, moving day is the cornerstone of social awareness and community interaction.\u00a0 The chickens, being excavators at heart, are the first ones to gather around the wheelbarrow and pitchfork with me.\u00a0 If it involves turning over poop or dirt, they are all for it.\u00a0 There could be delicious squishy grubs, a wriggling worm dissected by the sharp tines, or even undigested pieces of grain in the manure pile.\u00a0 The chickens are the dung beetles of the farm world.\u00a0 You know, disgusting and invaluable all at the same time.<\/p>\n

The goats come over to check out the action, too.\u00a0 Not because they are interested in the poop pile.\u00a0 Goats are so<\/span> above poop.\u00a0 As\u00a0 a matter of fact, should any goat worth her 6% butterfat milk encounter a goat “berry” floating in the water trough she will fall down, waving her hanky, and calling for smelling salts.\u00a0 By afternoon you will find all the goats lying on their sides, panting and gasping, crying, “Water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink!”\u00a0 As if they didn’t pollute it all by their poopy little selves.\u00a0 Sigh.<\/p>\n

Actually, the goats are just hoping for an escape opportunity.\u00a0 Eventually I forget to fasten the bottom of the gate securely on a trip to the garden and they squeeze their bodies through the 2 inch gap in 3.5 seconds.\u00a0 Sometimes even two at a time.\u00a0 They’re like that squishy bad guy on X-men that goes through the jail cell bars.\u00a0 I’d like to say I’ve seen them melt into amorphous goo but they tend to do it as soon as your back is turned.\u00a0 One minute you see the goats behind the fence and the next they are hauling butt past you to the….well, that’s the thing.\u00a0 There’s nowhere to go and nothing to do outside of the fence.\u00a0 All of the hay to eat, grass to trample, and fallen trees to climb on are inside the fence.\u00a0 Outside of it is just the driveway and the deck stairs.\u00a0 Boring.\u00a0 So they exercise their superpowers for nothing.\u00a0 I try to explain, “With great power comes great responsibility.”\u00a0 But they are too busy running around doing nothing to pay attention.\u00a0 That happens a lot around here.<\/p>\n

Soon the miniature pony arrives to supervise moving day procedure.\u00a0 Supervising is big with him because he is a very Type A pony.\u00a0 He recognizes that all poop belongs in its proper place and actually backs up to the manure pile to take care of business when he is loose on the pasture.\u00a0 Really.\u00a0 And should he be confined to the barn for the night when the call of nature strikes, he leaves his droppings in one corner of the barn in a discreet little stack.\u00a0 Then he goes to the water trough and washes his hooves exactly 6 times and unlocks and locks the stall slide bolt exactly 4 times before turning in 2 complete circles.\u00a0 I’ve thought about taking pictures of the pony backing up to the manure pile to do his business, and posting it just to prove how Type A the little guy really is.\u00a0 But then you might think I’m not as funny as I am kind of weird.\u00a0 It’s a thin line and I try not to step over it.<\/p>\n

After a few minutes, the sheep joins the moving day crowd.\u00a0 It’s unlikely that he recognizes the significance of the moment.\u00a0 He’s blind. He just follows the body heat until he starts bumping into everyone.\u00a0 Once that happens, he figures he’s in the right place.\u00a0 The other animals sneer at him, but luckily for him, he can’t see it.\u00a0 He has a delicate ego which barely survived the transition from an adorable, white, fluffy, bouncy lamb to a what looks like a walking, dirty, gray Q-tip.\u00a0 I can empathize.\u00a0 It’s the same reason I try to keep pictures of my college-aged, size 8 self hidden away in drawers.\u00a0 Sometimes it’s good to be blind.<\/p>\n

Eventually the guardian dog shows up.\u00a0 He is all about poop.\u00a0 Several times a day he finds a pile of poop and rolls in it.\u00a0 I have read that he does this to disguise his scent so he can sneak up on predators of the flock and attack them.\u00a0 But I have my doubts.\u00a0 First of all, he pees on everything and anyone who stands still for more than 3 minutes.\u00a0 This does not seem like a particularly sneaky strategy.\u00a0 Any predator within 5 miles of our place will either know we have a livestock guardian dog or think a crop sprayer plane with 100 gallons of dog urine just passed overhead.<\/p>\n

Second, rolling in poop makes him so darned happy.\u00a0 I mean, he grunts joyfully, and wags his tail, and has this huge doggy grin on his face during the process.\u00a0 Sometimes, if it’s a particularly stinky pile, he even backs up to get a running a start before throwing himself down in glee.\u00a0 Now, I’ve seen a lot of war movies where the soldiers disguise themselves for battle.\u00a0 They get out those little tins of green and black and smear their faces with camouflage.\u00a0 And they look very serious doing it.\u00a0 I mean, no smiling or tail wagging.\u00a0 Sometimes even dramatic music playing in the background.\u00a0 If the guardian dog is trying to camouflage himself in order to take out his enemies, someone forgot to tell him that smiling while you’re putting on your disguise is not very tough. \u00a0 Not tough at all.<\/p>\n

I don’t want to embarrass him, but I think he just likes poop.\u00a0 Which is why the goats and the pony try not to make eye contact with him.\u00a0 And sometimes when he’s rolling in it they look at me like, “Really?\u00a0 This perv is in charge around here?\u00a0 Tell us again where you went to farm school?”\u00a0 I don’t get a lot of respect unless I’m holding the food scoop.<\/p>\n

So you can spend your Saturday checking out the neighbors or feeding the local wildlife.\u00a0 One day when I am too old for the wheelbarrow I hope to join you.\u00a0 But for now, I’ll be in the barnyard, stumbling over the chickens, chasing goats, and inhaling the sweet aroma of…well, let’s just say, smelling the spice of life on a farm. \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n

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

I can only guess what other people do on Saturdays. If you live in a suburb, you probably sit by your kitchen window, sipping coffee, and watching what your neighbors are up to.\u00a0 As in, wonder if Rob-next-door will take out that huge pile of trash in the garage or spend the day washing his […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[7,8,14,18,42,41],"class_list":["post-519","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-what-do-the-city-folks-do","tag-barn","tag-chickens","tag-dogs","tag-goats","tag-manure","tag-poop"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/519","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\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=519"}],"version-history":[{"count":36,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/519\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":555,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/519\/revisions\/555"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=519"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=519"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ruffledfeathersandspilledmilk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=519"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}