Monthly Archives: May 2020

Farm Stories, Health and Fitness, Inspiration, Stories

One step forward, three bumps down.

I might have mentioned that since I’m not working lately I have been doing a lot of yardwork. For the last two weeks my biggest focus has been the nightmare of a firepit terrace. See, somebody about 15 or more years ago got a brilliant idea to reuse chunks of broken driveway to make a terrace. It’s a great idea in theory, but the way they did it was awful. There were gaps to swallow chair legs and it was uneven enough to trip over. I’ve put up with it for 8 years and I decided that I was going to tackle it. Pry slabs loose, break them up, shovel out the sod between. It’s not easy work and I’ve been going slow but steady.

The firepit before I started tearing it apart. You can hardly see the concrete for the grass growing between!

A week ago a friend volunteered her husband for a couple of mornings. His work was on pause and he was going stir crazy. We spent one morning prying up the slabs and got farther than I expected. The next day he put treads on my deck stairs. They’d been out of commission for an embarrassing amount of time and we had been using a less than ideal path down to the lawn. But with a couple of hours of work he had the top half put back together. Yay! Now I have easy access to the lawn from upstairs.

The terrace after one week of work. I might not be fast, but I love to see the results of my efforts.

So Tuesday of last week I got as far as setting up a row of blocks to mark the edge of the terrace. I put in probably five hours of hard labor moving heavy things by hand. I took Wednesday easy to make sure I didn’t hurt myself. Thursday morning I got ready to work hard again. I put my boots on by the back door on the deck and went to use my newly useable stairs. The top half was fine. Then I got to the bottom half where there are still the old wood deck boards. Wood stairs that haven’t been used in almost two years… If you’ve ever lived in a damp climate you know exactly where this is going. Wood that sits for any time ends up getting coated with a sludge that isn’t quite moss, mildew, or mud, but is as slick as snot.

I took one step onto the first stair and the next thing I knew my feet weren’t under me. I landed on my tailbone and bumped down a few steps until my heels dug in at the bottom landing. Ow! It didn’t hurt much at first, but my mobility was suddenly severely limited. I could hardly bend over to pick things up from the ground. But I have found that if I don’t keep moving I will freeze up.

I got the hose and a wire brush and scrubbed those steps to within an inch of their life. I managed to mow part of the lawn. Ow! I didn’t want to sit. Reaching for anything that takes me out of center hurt. And every time I hurt it made me laugh. Ibuprofen didn’t help much. An ice pack helped a little. But what did the most was time.

It’s been a week. It hasn’t been a fun week. I’ve been restless and cranky and hardly got anything done. I gave myself a deadline of May 30 to have this terrace cleared and some sort of firepit functional. Lounging around wasn’t getting anything done. I hate feeling like I can’t get things done. It does bad things to my mental health. But yesterday I got moving again.

My boys helped me get the big trailer down into position, then they helped break up more slabs.
I did not think there was this much concrete in that terrace. And there’s more to load.

I got my boys to come out with me. The middle one just needed the incentive of driving my truck to bring the trailer down. I am horrible at backing trailers while he has a natural instinct for it. We got it parked and started throwing chunks on it. Now it’s piled high enough that I’m worried about it being overweight. We might have to throw half of it off before we take it on the road.

I often start projects only to run into the most ridiculous roadblocks. All I know how to do is to keep trying. It often feels like I’m going too slow if not backwards. But when I pause and look around I can see that I’m not doing as bad as it feels. Baby steps might not be fast, but if you take those tiny steps for long enough you might be surprised how far you can get. And don’t hesitate to slow down if the situation calls for it. Allowing yourself to recover means you can do more the next time you push. Just don’t let the momentum completely disappear.

I just have the one pile of chunks left to throw on the trailer. Then I can rake it level. Should be done this evening!
Dogs, Farm Stories, Goats, Poultry, Stories

A tale of ducks and turkeys and goats and a dog.

I have a duck in one tub and a dog in the other. And there’s a story behind it.

It’s not the first time we’ve had a duck in the bathtub.

Last time we bought poultry feed we decided to try a cheaper brand. It saved us almost $20 for a month of feed, but it seems to have caused problems for the ducks. Almost two weeks ago a duck had to be brought in for treatment of a prolapsed vent. She got all bound up and tried to eject her innerds. Professor Google provided answers and she got to have daily Epsom salt baths and Preparation H applied to encourage healing. This morning she got released back to the pen, but another one seems to be starting the same problem. We need two people to catch the duck because they are slippery suckers.

Well, the ducks share a pen with the turkeys. The turkeys don’t like anyone messing with their pen or their ducks. They need to go out on grass anyway so we herded the turkeys out of the pen and down to the pond pasture. The goats were at the gate, but the leaf-rake-of-doom kept them far enough back so we could shove turkeys through one at a time.

Then we noticed that one goat had grown too big for his collar. I don’t know how it came on so quickly, but he looked like he was choking and gasping for air. That needed to be dealt with immediately. But he didn’t want to be caught. The other goats were eager to run in defense of him to keep us away. We had a merry chase around the pond and back and forth across the creek. We were getting nowhere and he just got more stressed.

Here’s a word of advice: don’t bother chasing goats to catch them. It works for poultry, but goats are stubborn and smart. They will always escape if you chase. It’s better to lure them in. A coffee can of COB (AKA goat crack) properly applied will get them to do almost anything you want.

So we had a can of goat crack. We had the rake-of-doom and a long stick and a leash for just in case. We got 4 of 5 goats to come and partake of treats. You can guess which one refused. We got 3 of 5 into the other pasture and closed the gate. So now we have the meekest goat (Ritz) and the distressed goat (Moo). They’re easier to manipulate on their own. I walked over to the roofed dog kennel they use as shelter and drop a pile of crack…COB. Ritzy meanders in, happy to have a chance at treats and Moo follows. I step in and close the door.

We aren’t supposed to use horns to manage goats, but they sure are handy. I caught him. My helper straddled and pinned him. I unhooked the collar… finally! Then we let him eat out of the coffee can so the entire encounter could be associated with treats instead of terror. I might have made a mistake in not working with this goat much. He needs to be better socialized to humans.

Okay, the goat is dealt with, the turkeys are hanging out with them and intimidating them while wrestling each other. Meanwhile the dog has been gleefully running in circles, unable to decide if he’s going to “help” us wrangle goats, chase rabbits, or roll in all the smells he usually doesn’t have access to. Guess what he did.

Back to the duck pen. We got the ducks cornered and pulled out the ailing one. Got back to the house and I started filling the tub with water and Epsom salt. The dog followed me in and boy did he smell foul! The minute that duck was settled in her bath I took the dog to the other bathroom to get him cleaned up.

“But Mom! I thought it smelled so good! Why don’t you like my perfume?”

There is something about manure that is irresistible to dogs. Especially male dogs. Most baths given to dogs in this house happen after they have found their way into a pasture and come back crusted in stink. It’s like a 13 year old boy that believes the Axe commercials. Except we all know that repulses rather than attracts.

I got the dog clean. I even finished off with a dab of the boys Old Spice body wash around his neck. We’ll see how he likes that smell. The duck has gotten her treatment and is in the hospital cage for observation. The bathrooms are clean-ish and the used towels in the washer. Let the day go back to the sleepy rainy Saturday we had intended to have.