A Dog's Breakfast

Today was a ridiculous day.  It was certainly a dog's breakfast in the figurative sense.  Moreover, it was almost one in the literal sense too when Ava took a few bites out of Pecky Becky.  Good gracious.

We started the day with barn mucking.  The animals were not being accommodating.  We had to remove Gillian from inside the wheelbarrow at least a dozen times.

Then Ava stole the shovel and did not want to give it back.  Oh so helpful.

Next our huge stand up freezer (the one that we bought to store the pork from Ham Solo and Gloria Swinem) died.  And so we found ourselves with (among other things) two humongous, completely defrosted pork butts that needed to go into the smoker overnight.

Next, one of my hens presented herself dripping gore all over the place from her rear end.  Into the house she went for a warm wash off and a generous slather of Polysporin.  We then set her up in the chicken isolation unit so the other hens could not continue to peck at her sore, bloody bum.

Then it was off to the maple grove to collect the sap that has finally decided to flow like gangbusters.  It was cold out and we found lots of ice hunks in the half full buckets but thanks to Liam's assistance we made quick work of the collection.

Next on the list was to spread out straw in the goats' clean barn before putting them to bed.  I was on my hands and knees scraping out the last of the clean loose straw from the floor of the hay loft when for some reason I had the strong urge to glance outside to see what Ava was up to.  To my shock and dismay I saw her halfway down the field chomping down on a huge white floof ball that was writhing in distress.  Oh my God - Ava was trying to eat Pecky Becky!  I ran full tilt down the paddock hollering at Ava to "leave it!".  Thank goodness she let Pecky Becky up when I got close enough so I was able to grab the traumatized turkey and drop her back over the fence into the chicken run.  Thanks to all the screaming and running, I also managed to pee my pants during the fiasco.  I really should remember to fit more kegels into my day.

Upon inspection, Pecky Becky is physically fine, less a few feathers.  She does not look very happy about the predicament she got herself into.  I guess tomorrow morning will be spent clipping poultry wings and spreading out the manure pile that I gather she used as a step to jump up over the fence.  It is so very lucky I was there when I was so that I could rescue her.

And if all this was not enough, upon locking up the birds for the night, I noticed that Murtagh Fitzgibbons was missing.  Sigh.  And so, a rooster search and rescue mission commenced, thankfully resulting in Fitz's safe recovery in the far back of the chicken run.  I bet that Fitz followed some of the older hens out of the coop on a foraging expedition and then did not think to follow them back at dusk.  I found him wandering alone and forlorn in the run with absolutely no idea how to get back to the clean, warm coop.

Sheep: "Why are you still out here, tiny buddy?"
Fitz: "I have no idea."

After all this, I noticed on my way back to the house that on today of all days, my directly sowed arugula, lettuce and radish seeds had finally decided to sprout.  And so, this is how I found myself hastily erecting a hoop greenhouse in the dark over top of my box garden.

My word.  I am exhausted.  What a dog's breakfast of a day!