Posted by: poofergirlsperspective | May 14, 2010

Oh yeah that’s right, I am a farm girl.

My farm girl days have been somewhat limited these days.  I suppose it has something to do with growing babies in the house, and since they either come early or make me stay in bed to come on time I have been a bit “occupied” with the babies the past year or so. 

This baby time has limited my chore time … not a bad thing since I have never been a huge fan of them in the first place.  But, Farmer Neal has a new job which has him working second shift with a lengthy commute.  Working second shift means he is working from early afternoon until almost the following day.  What this new job means to this new mama is that I need to put the farm girl boots back on a couple of times a day.  Now, before you start feeling bad for me and think “she shouldn’t have to do chores and raise babies!” … you should know that the extent of my chores are to let the chickens out and put them to bed.  More specifically, this means opening the chicken coop door in the afternoon and heading back out to shut it when the sun goes down and they are all back in.  I can hardly call them chores, but technically they are so I will use the term as it fits. 

This actual chore isn’t too bad … even if I thought it was I wouldn’t likely admit that since seriously, it is opening and shutting a door.  I will admit it can be a little inconvenient at times with those little babies … since their needs must be met before the trek to the chicken coop.  The chickens sometimes have to wait which I am completely fine with.  Incase you were curious … I am still afraid of the chickens, they are definitely not my top priority.  But I do what I am supposed to with the opening and closing of their door.  I try to ignore the sound of them frantically trying to catch up to me as I head back to the house in the hopes that I have some treats for them that I must have forgotten to give them.  Eventually they give up and the sound of running hens behind me fades.   Fear of the chickens will likely not fade however.  And to add to that fear, it turns out that I am still afraid of the steers too. 

Even though there is only one crabby mama Bessie and one sweet Benedict who isn’t quite a year old, the sight of them grazing where I need to be, scares me a bit.  It just so happens that yesterday evening as I was heading to the coop to shut the door, Benedict saw me and started running towards me.  You should know that he was running fast.  It is a pretty sweet life as far as steers go to have all the yummy green grass they want … and apparently seeing me coming towards him made Benedict’s day all the better.  Little did he know that he scares the begeebers out of me.  So I stood at the electric fence … just a small thin wire separating us, and yet I felt safe on the other side.  I tried to get him to move but he just looked at me as if I was coming to visit.  I am pretty sure he wasn’t going to hurt me but the fear overtook the situation and I headed back to the house thinking that even though I would feel bad if something made its way into the coop once it was dark and killed all the chickens, that would be better than Benedict killing me.  I checked to see where he was for the next hour as the sun continued to set and he stood right where I would need to get in.  It was as if he were waiting for me. 

Finally I decided that I should try again, just muster up what courage I could and see if I could complete my simple chore.  The thought of telling Farmer Neal that his so-called farm wife was a big old chicken who wasn’t only afraid of the chickens but was afraid of a one year old steer was not something that I wanted to do.  As I headed out the door I grabbed the maglight … you know cause it was big and black and offered me some sort of strange comfort.   Benedict was still at the gate but he stood still as I came up, and stood in the same spot while I walked past him and crabby Bessie.   I may just have waved my trusty flashlight as I passed, and gave a look that only a mother can give … but I can’t say for sure.  In a matter of a minute or two I was back on the other side of the wire and all was well.  I am not sure, but I think it had something to do with the trusty maglight. 

This morning I was telling Farmer Neal my story and he said “yeah he wanted to play.  As soon as you touch him he will run away … he is way more scared of you then you are of him, “.  I told him that I knew it was silly to be afraid of him and he said “well, a 700 pound steer can do that.”  700 pounds?  Holy buckets … I didn’t think that he was 700 pounds.  Pretty sure that I am bringing that flashlight with me again if he is looking for a playdate.

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Responses

  1. You’re the best writer! Excellent story, and it kept me chuckling til the end. I would probably be afraid of the steer too, but I don’t think I’d be chicken about the chickens. Unless they would peck my ankles or legs.

  2. i can relate


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