Being a farmer is not easy. I guess that nobody suggested that it would be – but just to confirm your assumption, no, it is not.
Today after chores were accomplished this morning: milking the cows, feeding the calves, feeding all the bovines, the swine, the chickens, turkeys, geese, ducks, and hand watering all of them… we spent the majority of the day exploring country roads in Southern Vermont. Essentially we got lost in Dummerston. It was beautiful and we had a great time finding our way back to Putney and then South, back to our farm. We got home in time to go out and shovel manure, and do chores again. Today was a rare day in our lives: our family, two sons and my husband and I were all together in the same vehicle at the same time and we had no itinerary and could not possibly be late. The last time we had a “free day” like this was October 3, 2009. I remember that because we were in Maine and it was during our three day, once-yearly vacation.
We are back in reality now. The baby chicks that I “brought back from the dead” yesterday are still alive and cheeping — very happy in fact, and are living under the radiator in the kitchen, still. That will change tomorrow morning. They will be re-introduced to the flock under the brooding setup in the barn. With two young boys, we can’t have a flock of house-chickens. (At one point in my life, what seems like a long, long time ago, before I was married, I did have a house chicken named Shakespeare; she was great)
I took a phone call from a small farmer from the Southeastern part of the State today, and very much enjoyed sharing experiences that we have had with different breeds and varieties of similar things that both he and we, are raising. That call came about a week after I took a call from another farmer from just off the coast of Maine, and we, likewise, had a romping great conversation about raising animals and techniques to cajole animals into living a happy life.
So, in between all of these great things that I do with the animals, and the children, and the phone calls, I eek out a few moments to write a wordpress blog about what we do. Tweeting, or twittering, or whatever that thing is that everybody seems to be doing now, though seemingly a perfect fit with us and poultry (“tweet”), is nothing that I will be doing soon. I can’t even imagine tweeting my day. It might be as boring as: I am in the barn. I am scooping out locally raised whole corn to feed the Large Black /Red Wattle Cross Pigs. I now have a snout print on my pants.
How insane is that?