Thursday, June 2, 2011
Some Days Suck
But I kept on going.
I went to the ranch to get the morning chores done and stopped on the dirt road by the gigantic garden to see that yes, indeed, my neighbor was right. It wasn't birds that ate all the radishes...or all the beets. It really was a big jackrabbit.
I admit "Jack" was cute. But I was kind of ticked at him for eating all my hard work.
I fed and watered everyone and everything. I didn't worry when Ms. Cow was a brat and ignored me when it was her turn to milk. I just took Pepper first since she's always so anxious to give me her milkies. She's better behaved anyhow. Of course, Ms. Cow paid me back on her turn by managing to whack the bucket enough to make milk splash all over my left sleeve. And here I thought she'd learned some manners.
But all in all, even with a little spill, I still got a whole gallon of milk. It wasn't enough to cry about.
It was about time to leave, so I went to get the eggs. I slid open the pallet door and collected. Tsica, Queen/Tyrant of Goats wanted to see what I was up to (because clearly I was not paying attention to her which is unacceptable), so she squeezed her head in by mine, got spooked, pulled back and bumped me with her horns. Ouch. Still, nothing to get too upset over. It was an accident after all. Seven eggs in my shirt, I started to back out and saw that one of the Rhode Island Reds was acting odd. So I picked her up and started to worry. She was having a seizure.
Who knew chickens have seizures? I've had dogs that do, but a chicken? Great. So I carried this seizing chicken with me in one arm and managed to set the eggs down in a safe spot while I waited for the poor bird to come out of it. Only she didn't. She DIED right there in my arms.
At this point I'm thinking maybe the universe is off-kilter and out to get me.
Ugh. So. I dug a hole in the rock hard dirt by our little pet graveyard and buried the beautiful red hen that never even got old enough to lay an egg. Maybe it was a scorpion. Maybe she ate something odd. Maybe she had a heart attack and just died. I don't know.
I admit, I was starting to get a little emotional. It's never a happy moment when your animals die, even the ones that don't have names.
I finished up and pulled out of the ranch, stopping to close up the gate.
As I did so, I heard the most pitiful bahs coming from the neighbor's yard. I went over to check on Jorge, her last little buck to find him all alone in his pen, crying. He had no other goats to play with anymore, just their black dog and she wasn't really in the mood to play with the goat. I talked to him a little and he stopped crying, perked up, and stood on his hind legs against the fence, wanting to follow me anywhere and be my friend. I could relate to the little guy at that point. No one wants to end up all alone and unwanted.
But I kept going.
There are a lot of things that need to get done on Thursdays. Costco, a lot of cover art assignments, line editing and book uploading. Not to mention I was late getting home and my kids were likely being WII junkies in my absence.
But I won't let the universe win.
On the bright side, I'm having scrambled eggs for lunch from the eggs that did survive. I have 17 other chickens and that Red wasn't a layer. I smell like milk which isn't really a bad smell when it's all fresh and warm and frothy. My in-laws are going back where they feel safe and secure and where they can speak the same language as the doctors.
Who knows? Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but all we can do is hold on for the ride and make the best of what we're given.