Oops.

You know the adage "learn from your mistakes." Well, it seems I'm hell-bent on learning. I've got a list a mile long of things I've learned since we moved to The Funny Farm.

Some examples?
-Never mow the pasture with a riding mower. Unseen rocks will do serious damage to the mowing deck.
-Weed-eating in shorts is a bad idea.
-Weed-eating a patch of poison-ivy while wearing shorts is a very, very, very bad idea.

I could go on.

Recently, I ran across a quote that made me chuckle: "Let's make better mistakes tomorrow." Yes. At this point, I can only hope that, aside from the lesson learned, my mistakes will at least provide some entertainment and not be of the kind that result in missing limbs or the death of a favorite pet.

Thankfully, my latest mistake falls into the entertainment category.

Yesterday, after dropping the kids off at school, I mixed up the calves' bottles, and headed out to feed them. As I was passing the corner of the back deck, some movement caught my eye. A glance revealed a young skunk scrounging in the dirt beneath the unused rabbit hutch. I did an about face and returned to the trailer for the gun. Not only are skunks a threat to the chickens and their eggs, but around here, they are notorious for carrying rabies.

We really need to get a new critter gun. The one we are using is a semi-automatic that had been the subject of a recall. If it doesn't jam, the chances are it might shoot off multiple rounds with one pull of the trigger, and that can be very dangerous, so we have abandoned the clip and load one bullet at a time.

I returned to the back yard with the loaded gun, and saw that the skunk had not been scared off by my presence, so I took careful aim through the touchy scope and fired. It was a direct hit. The skunk writhed, appeared to attempt a somersault, and got stuck upside-down on its shoulders, tail and rear-end folded over the top of it's front-end and head. Surprisingly, there was no release of foul odor.

For a second, I contemplated putting a few more bullets in it, when I noticed a chorus of chickens clucking away in the coop. To be honest, they didn't really sound as if they were in a panic, but I just wanted to make sure there were no other skunks lurking around. I strolled over to the coop, peeked in and saw... nothing but a handful of chickens bragging about the eggs they had just laid.

I walked back over toward the hutch to see if the skunk was dead. But it wasn't. It was gone. I looked frantically around and finally caught sight of it- just as it was disappearing under the trailer. Cuss.

Crawling under the trailer is not my idea of a good time, especially if there is a hurt and frightened skunk under there. In fact, just poking my head into the damp darkness to see if a skunk is under there is not something I would consider enjoyable either. So I did what any sane person would do. I waited, in hopes that the skunk would die in a convenient spot under there, rigor mortis would set in (a dead skunk won't release it's stink if you wait to move it until after it is stiff), and then I (or preferably Chris, ha ha) could easily pull it out and dispose of it.

A few hours later, I opened up a panel of the trailer's skirt and carefully poked my head into the darkness. A scan with the flashlight, no skunk. I moved to another spot. Still no sign of skunk. There wasn't even a hint of smell. The only place I could see that might possibly be a harboring a dead or dying skunk was a section of drain tile that had been inconveniently stored underneath the trailer. I wasn't about to crawl under there to check. So I guess either the skunk wandered out another hole of the trailer and disappeared into the woods, or is still under the trailer. If it starts smelling like rotting corpse around here in a few days, then maybe I'll risk the crawl under the trailer. Or pay one of the kids to do it.

Lesson learned?
-Never, ever assume one bullet will kill a skunk.

Mammoth Egg

Life is full of surprises.

 

I went to collect the eggs just now, and for a second, thought some mystery duck had invaded the chicken coop and laid an egg in one of the nesting boxes. But that would be ridiculous. One of the hens laid an extra-jumbo egg this morning. Hope she's feeling alright.

 

Below is a photo that doesn't seem to do the egg justice. The egg in the middle is a typically-sized egg. On the left, a mini that the hens lay every now and again. On the right is the monster. It measures three inches in length where a typical egg is 2 to 2-1/2 inches.

 I had seen a video on YouTube not long ago where some guy cracked open a massive egg to find another egg (complete with shell) inside, so I took this one into the closet and candled it. Looks like it's just a regular egg inside.

Mullet

 I go out of town for a few days, and what happens? While Chris takes a nap, Zivah gives herself a haircut. Bangs, chunks off the sides...  Looks like she was going for an 80's poodle mullet. Just when the sides were finally getting long enough to pull into a ponytail. (Not that she let me very often.)

I was already planning on trimming the back up a little, but I had to hack off quite a bit of hair in my attempt to even it out. At least curly hair is somewhat forgiving. I'm still not entirely happy with it. I might have to trim up the back some more... Any thoughts?

Three's A Crowd

As if there weren't other nesting boxes to lay in...

Photo by Finley

The calves are still alive.

 Mopey is still not doing well, though, and Meat-Head apparently picked up a slight cough, so I returned to the vet yesterday for some different antibiotics. Let's hope the medicine works this time. After last weeks' experience, I have quit giving shots, and we had our neighbor come over to help administer them. He (gently enough) throws the calves to the ground and pins them down so that Chris has a still animal to work on. So much easier.

At least the calves are eating well, downing their bottles as fast as they can suck and eating grain and bits of grass. It's a good thing I'm not a mama cow, though, because I would not take kindly to the way calves nose-knock their milk-dispensers. One hit in my udder like that, and I would probably kick the blasted calf. One of our first feedings, a calf knocked the bottle right out of my hands. Because of that, I had been hesitant to let the kids feed the calves. But the girls begged, so I let them try.

They managed it like pros. I was especially impressed by Zivah. She held her ground and bottle tight, and didn't seem to mind getting pushed around one bit.

I have to laugh at Finley. We've been letting the calves out into the little paddock behind the stable, and when it's time to put them up at night, Finley keeps telling us that she know how to do it. "All you need to do is put a halter on them and lead them into the stable!" Once I know the calves are healthy and could handle the stress, I might just have to let her try it.

 

 With the advent of nice weather, I wanted to get some work done in the garden before it rained again. Last week, Chris noticed a weld had broken on the tiller, but I was hoping it wouldn't be a problem. As soon as I started wheeling it out of the shop, the wheels started spreading apart. I needed a quick fix, so I clamped the wheels down in a vice, and strapped on a bunch of tip ties. I honestly thought as soon as I re-attached the wheels and put pressure on them, the ties would just snap. But I am glad to say I was wrong and managed to till the entire garden without a problem.

 Yesterday, I planted potatoes, and today Z and I planted onions, green beans, radishes, beets, and lettuce. This afternoon, a storm is expected to water it all in.

 Last weekend, Chris built stub-outs for the plumbing and got most of them installed. Although most of what I've read says that hammer-arrestors aren't necessary when using pex (since the flexible plastic won't knock like rigid pipe), we decided to put them in anyway as it is easier on the fixtures.

This weekend, I hope to get rolling on some electrical.

Last for today, but not least, here is a lovely picture of Zivah, who took it upon herself to stamp Joe's name on her forehead.

Wrinkles

I didn't understand Joan Rivers until just a moment ago. She's an old lady with a fake face. I couldn't quite remember how old she was, and I was curious. A Google search revealed that she is almost 80. And as I was staring at her pictures, wondering why she insists on keeping the wrinkles pulled out of her visage, I saw the answer. I found it in the title of her book: I Hate Everyone...Starting with Me. Well. That explains it. We alter our bodies and put on facades to cover up our imperfections and hide the things we don't like about ourselves.

I did something daring the other day. I get comments all the time that I look younger than I am. But the truth is, it's just because I'm shorter than the average middle-schooler, and most of the time you're not close enough to really see my developing wrinkles. So I took an up-close photograph of myself and posted it online for all to see. Here, I'll show you.

I've been telling myself that I don't mind the wrinkles. It's all about perspective, really, the way that you see. Sure, smooth, young skin is beautiful, but isn't the texture of an aged face just as beautiful? Isn't it sad to see society stretching the character out of its faces?

I have an affinity for crow's feet. They tell of years of laughter and squinting in the sun. But I have to honest. There are a few wrinkles I've thought I would like to erase. Those vertical lines that start just between my eyebrows? Those are the lines that you draw to show someone is stern or frustrated. My temper is not something I like about myself. I hope as I grow older, I am learning to control it a little better. Is that all those lines say?

Then someone commented on my photo, "Your forehead wrinkles spell pi." Yes, they do! And if that isn't the perfect sign to have emblazoned on my forehead, what else it there? Pi symbolizes an endless calculation, and I am forever contemplating, analyzing, calculating, drawing my brows together in serious thought... So I've gained a new perspective. Those forehead wrinkles are my think-too-much wrinkles. I can live with those.

Some days are better than others.

Some days you just need a good cry.

 

Especially if everything seems to be going wrong.

 

And you haven't slept well. 

 

And on top of that, you are probably PMSing.

Especially if you are PMSing.

One of the two calves we have left has pneumonia. Last week, I went and bought some antibiotics, but after the recommended four-day treatment, it wasn't really getting any better. A little more internet research revealed that the stuff we were giving it wasn't any good for pneumonia, in spite of the claims on the bottle, so this morning, I went to the vet, and they sold me a single shot that is supposed to do the trick.

When I got home, I went out to give Mopey his shot. He didn't want to sit still (who would?) and as I stuck him and pushed in the plunger, I noticed some shiny droplets squirting out of his fur. Great. Instead of sticking the needle under the skin, I had pushed it right through the other side of the fold of skin. To boot, I had grazed my finger with the needle and it was bleeding a little.

I went back to the house, slapped on a bandage, mixed up some milk replacer, fed the calves, then ran back to the vet to get a second shot. This time, I called our neighbor to have some help holding the calf while I administered the shot. While fumbling with the syringe (the needle kept pulling off the syringe when I tried to remove the cap), I pricked a different finger. But we managed to pull up a different fold of skin on the calf (which isn't easy), and with blood dripping off my finger, I gave him the shot... and saw it squirting out. Again.

So after my neighbor went home, I let myself cry. Zivah watched me for a while. Then she started to tear up, and said, "Why do you keep crying?" "Because Mom is having a bad day," I said. And cried a little more. Which really made Z cry (poor thing). So I poured a cup of coffee, pulled myself together, and told myself that some day (hopefully tomorrow) I will look back and laugh. This is the Funny Farm after all.