Tales From The Perfect Life. I got up at 4:30 a.m. this morning to do some writing – I’m writing about how I used some of Annie Sullivan’s philosophy with Helen Keller to get through to Frieda – and I went to let the dogs out and feed the barn cats. I heard some unusual noises for that hour, even on a farm. You get sensitive to the right sounds on a farm, as picking up the wrong ones can matter.
First, I saw a chicken swimming around in the donkey watering tank. I’d never seen that before. Then I saw Rose get that urgent look she has, and I heard an alarm sound from up in the pasture. It was dark and misty and I couldn’t see anything, but I have learned to trust Rose’s instincts so we went up and found a ewe stuck between the pasture gate and a bush. Ewes are like chickens that way, everybody tells me they are smarter than they seem, but I have yet to see a l of of first-hand evidence for that. We got up there and Rose and I got her up and moving, and about this point, Frieda went berserk and sent after something in the fenced in area, and I heard much shrieking and then silence. Haven’t been out to see what she got yet.
On the way back, I saw that the donkeys had managed to slide the big sliding door of the barn open and were going to to town on the hay bales in there. Quite a mess. I had to get a broom and swat them each on the butt to get them out. Being donkeys, they would just not move. But I have a rule on the farm. If I say do it, the animals have to do it, one way or the other. It’s not a matter of toughness, but survival. I slipped on muck and came down the bottom third of the pasture on my ass. I am very proud of the fact that while sliding, I got a shot or two of Rose moving the sheep. Finest hour.
Then the donkeys and the chickens got into a battle over some garbage I put out. Much clucking and snorting. And noise. Simon braying. Winston crowing. Sheep yelling out to each other.
When I got to the kitchen, took off my shoes and threw my pants in the wash, I went to the stove and remembered the two eggs I had left boiling there, before all of this, and both exploded right in my face at the same time, showering me and the kitchen with hot egg bits. Maria came down, smelling the eggs, and burst out laughing when she saw me and the eggs. I told her to get back to bed, and she did, as she is enjoying her book. You should have called me, she said, yawning. No big deal, I said, all part of the perfect life.
I might consider a good offer for the farm..But you know…in this economy ):