Thursday Morning

Yesterday morning I woke after too little sleep. More than I had been getting, perhaps, but too little nonetheless. It is during mornings such as these where I hit a sort of autopilot, and proceed about my chores with little thought. The puppy was let out to pee and I set about closing the windows. The house had got down to 73F, though it would have been cooler if the box fan had not fallen out of the window, it was a good enough start to the day.

As is my custom, I walked out back to be greeted by the now relieved Diggery. For a while I stared out into the pasture, taking in the cool morning air and allowing my eyes to adjust to the day. Five or ten minutes is what it takes, and then I am back in action. The flake pulled nicely off the bale, and the hay filled my nostrils and coated my shirt. Diggery and I set off to the pasture together - him jumping around my feet, me balancing the flake in one hand as I opened the gate. It is during this time that the puppy fears missing something exciting, so he takes only short pees, every minute or two.

When I found a suitable spot, I tossed the hay to the ground and brushed what I could off me. By that time the sheep voiced displeasure at having to wait for breakfast, so I trudged on over to their night pen to let them out - Diggery still bouncing around and under my feet. Then came that wonderful moment, which happens most every morning when I let the sheep loose. Diggery set to work immediately. First he valiantly, but ultimately in vain, attempted to bring the sheep back to me. The poor dog is still too small to completely enforce his demands. Then, once the sheep broke past him, he chased them mightily across the field, towards and then past the hay. At this point, as usual, hunger took over and the sheep quit giving heed to the dog. So, full of pride, Diggery rushed back to me for praise. "Good job. That's a good puppy." He will make a good sheepdog.

By that time the sun had begun to warm and I was glad I had closed the windows. With the warmth on my back, we strode off to turn on the water. The closest working waterline is, of course, almost a football field's distance from the animals. We do a lot of walking in the morning.

Half way across the field, I noticed that I was being followed; not only by Diggery, which is normal, but by two hens. "Cluck, cluck." Cocked heads looked at me as if I was the one up to no good. "What the… How did you get out?" How long had they been following me?

Back to the chicken coop. I suppose it is a general rule that things should not go smoothly when you are the least rested to handle it. It turned out that the sheep had been using the chicken yard to scratch their itching shedding wool. Busted a whole straight through the side. "Sigh… I guess you guys will be free-range today." Not that I did not want them to free-range, I just was not planning it until next week.

Off again to the water. I walked a little more quickly after that. My chores had just increased.

Just after I had walked passed the back door I heard the desperate mournful cry of one who felt rejected. As if the world had turned its back on the love and adoration of a nineteen month old boy. As if that poor lonesome boy had awoken and sought out his father, only to have him walk briskly by without so much as a glance. As if… Well, I suppose that is it.

So, the water was turned on and I soon found myself walking back through the field, Brenden in one arm, chicken feed in hand, Diggery bouncing about my feet and eight hens following behind. The gate to the pasture and the gate to the chicken yard were deftly opened with the sort of agility known only to parents, and the occasional gymnast.

Taking great care, I was near enough able to water the sheep and chickens without allowing the puppy to get himself wet - which was an endeavor I failed in today. I proceed back through the field, past the gate and succeed in preventing the puppy from ingesting copious amounts of sheep manure. The boy was returned to bed and the dog was fed.

Finally I was able get ready and on to work. Down I sat at my desk.

Text Message
Valerie:
The sheep are in the chicken coop. They ate the feed.

I smiled.