January in Texas tempts us with Spring days that stir the heart of any gardener, and I'm no exception. As soon as the sun comes out, I'm already planning new beds for flowers and sewing the seeds for this year's herb garden. I spent today hauling horse manure to make new beds. I put some serious thought into why I even considered yoga and a work-out program when I have chores like: shoveling manure, hauling manure, picking weeds, and trimming trees. If you add the extra exercise benefits of wearing rubber boots while clomping through mud, actually "paying" for the privilege of working out not only seems a bit asinine, but I'm sure it would have farmers in my family tree rolling in their graves.
So I hauled countless loads of old and new manure today. As often happens when one is deep in repetitive labor, my mind began to wander and I left the gate opened. And as sure as the sun will come up in the morning, if a gate is left open, a goat will find it - three goats to be precise. So as I strained like a mule to pull a load of fresh manure through the mud, I noticed three white goats in my neighbor's front yard. Now my neighbor is unlikely to run off and buy three white goats, so it was a sure bet that they were mine.
I am rarely, if ever, in the mood to fiddle-fart with loose goats, and today was no exception. Since I have a very willing farm-collie to help me, I pointed out the goats and said, "Kona, fetch 'em up." What happened next was pure poetry. A tawny streak raced across my yard and into the neighbor's. The goats dropped their jaws in open-mouthed shock. Kona went wide, circled the goats, and did a beautiful lift. Since the dog has no training in herding, I was pretty darned impressed. So were the goats. In fact, the goats were so impressed that they came running straight toward me. Kona was beside himself with glee. He was fetching goats. The goats were beside themselves with hysteria. A large wolf was behind. (keep in mind that three weeks earlier their comrade was killed and eaten by loose dogs, and it's probably still fresh in their little pointy heads) The goats were racing towards me at warp speed, when they decided that the obvious path to get back into the pasture was to take the long way around my property to the only other gate they knew. They hooked a left around the front of my house. I called the dog back to me. He was quite disappointed that he didn't get to complete the fetch. The goats ran around the edge of the property and waited at the gate. Fine.
Since goats don't have thumbs, they need help opening gates, and so I put the dog on a down-stay and started to walk toward the goats. In a blind panic, they raced down the fence line. I turned to glare at the dog. Nope, wasn't him. He was still on his down-stay with the intoxicated look of a crazed football fan. I wouldn't have thought they could see that far, but obviously they weren't taking any chances of becoming some dog's dinner. They ran down the fence line and crashed into the hot wire fence. It is a scientific fact (we proved it today) that goats are more afraid of dogs than electricity.
With the goats safely back in the pasture, I put Kona in the back yard and went to check the fence to see how much damage they did to my hotwire. Hmmmm.... three frenzied goats can bound through a four-strand barbed wire fence that is re-enforced with two strands of hotwire and the only evidence will be a tuft of goat hair in the barbed wire. No fence repairs needed. That didn't suck.
So I headed back to the barn. And that's when the rooster attacked me.
That red bastard ran straight at me with fire in his eyes. I kicked the crap outta him. He ran in two more times and met my boot both times. Then he got crafty and started this circle/feint/attack move. It was getting serious. I screamed for Kona. There was an answering bark, "Shit!" I had locked him in the yard.
I had no back-up and the rooster wasn't backing down. I started edging toward a board on the ground. The rooster kept rushing me. The dog was throwing himself against the fence in a rage. Slowly I moved toward the board. Bending over to grab it was a tricky thing because the rooster kept up the attack. But when I finally reached that 2x4, I was Xena Warrior Princess. "Look out you Red Bastard!" I started swinging. Roosters are amazingly agile when facing off with a woman that is armed with a seven foot long 2x4. I was unable to kill him, (which was indeed, my goal) but at least I got some respect and he soon shook his feathers at me one last time and wandered off. I then called my mother and informed her that Wooster, otherwise known as That Red Bastard, had to GO!
She protested that he was her best rooster. I advised that if he attacks me again, he will be dog food. Kona is more than willing to oblige, since not only do farm-collies fetch goats, they will also make short work of crazed roosters. Xena Warrior Princess might not be fast enough with a 2x4 to kill a rooster, but I'm sure Kona the Wolf Dog is.
So I hauled countless loads of old and new manure today. As often happens when one is deep in repetitive labor, my mind began to wander and I left the gate opened. And as sure as the sun will come up in the morning, if a gate is left open, a goat will find it - three goats to be precise. So as I strained like a mule to pull a load of fresh manure through the mud, I noticed three white goats in my neighbor's front yard. Now my neighbor is unlikely to run off and buy three white goats, so it was a sure bet that they were mine.
I am rarely, if ever, in the mood to fiddle-fart with loose goats, and today was no exception. Since I have a very willing farm-collie to help me, I pointed out the goats and said, "Kona, fetch 'em up." What happened next was pure poetry. A tawny streak raced across my yard and into the neighbor's. The goats dropped their jaws in open-mouthed shock. Kona went wide, circled the goats, and did a beautiful lift. Since the dog has no training in herding, I was pretty darned impressed. So were the goats. In fact, the goats were so impressed that they came running straight toward me. Kona was beside himself with glee. He was fetching goats. The goats were beside themselves with hysteria. A large wolf was behind. (keep in mind that three weeks earlier their comrade was killed and eaten by loose dogs, and it's probably still fresh in their little pointy heads) The goats were racing towards me at warp speed, when they decided that the obvious path to get back into the pasture was to take the long way around my property to the only other gate they knew. They hooked a left around the front of my house. I called the dog back to me. He was quite disappointed that he didn't get to complete the fetch. The goats ran around the edge of the property and waited at the gate. Fine.
Since goats don't have thumbs, they need help opening gates, and so I put the dog on a down-stay and started to walk toward the goats. In a blind panic, they raced down the fence line. I turned to glare at the dog. Nope, wasn't him. He was still on his down-stay with the intoxicated look of a crazed football fan. I wouldn't have thought they could see that far, but obviously they weren't taking any chances of becoming some dog's dinner. They ran down the fence line and crashed into the hot wire fence. It is a scientific fact (we proved it today) that goats are more afraid of dogs than electricity.
With the goats safely back in the pasture, I put Kona in the back yard and went to check the fence to see how much damage they did to my hotwire. Hmmmm.... three frenzied goats can bound through a four-strand barbed wire fence that is re-enforced with two strands of hotwire and the only evidence will be a tuft of goat hair in the barbed wire. No fence repairs needed. That didn't suck.
So I headed back to the barn. And that's when the rooster attacked me.
That red bastard ran straight at me with fire in his eyes. I kicked the crap outta him. He ran in two more times and met my boot both times. Then he got crafty and started this circle/feint/attack move. It was getting serious. I screamed for Kona. There was an answering bark, "Shit!" I had locked him in the yard.
I had no back-up and the rooster wasn't backing down. I started edging toward a board on the ground. The rooster kept rushing me. The dog was throwing himself against the fence in a rage. Slowly I moved toward the board. Bending over to grab it was a tricky thing because the rooster kept up the attack. But when I finally reached that 2x4, I was Xena Warrior Princess. "Look out you Red Bastard!" I started swinging. Roosters are amazingly agile when facing off with a woman that is armed with a seven foot long 2x4. I was unable to kill him, (which was indeed, my goal) but at least I got some respect and he soon shook his feathers at me one last time and wandered off. I then called my mother and informed her that Wooster, otherwise known as That Red Bastard, had to GO!
She protested that he was her best rooster. I advised that if he attacks me again, he will be dog food. Kona is more than willing to oblige, since not only do farm-collies fetch goats, they will also make short work of crazed roosters. Xena Warrior Princess might not be fast enough with a 2x4 to kill a rooster, but I'm sure Kona the Wolf Dog is.
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