Some days are easier then others

Some days doing chores can be more difficult then other days. It is tough sometimes to be outside at 6 am in the dark during a winter snow storm, or a torrential down poor or even on a very humid 90 degree plus day doing chores twice a day. Bruce usually lugs all the large three to five gallon waters around, filling and placing them where they are needed. Then there are the small waterers, the feeding, egg collecting, herding babies, locking every one in for the overnight. Chasing down those darn ducks, doing head counts are we missing any one, who or how many hatched out in the incubator? There is always some sort of trauma, drama or event that makes every day unique and interesting.

The other day we went about our usual morning duties. We were having trouble with everyone; the goose would not get off a duck nest, the turkey hens needed to be checked (to much boy activity), the tom turkeys were fighting (normal), one turkey poult caught its head in the feeder and was bleeding, Elvira took her chicks and went to the neighbors house (which she does daily) and the baby ducklings are running wild (normal).

Where to begin, the checking of the incubator, I carefully lift the lid and it is loaded with more chicks then I can carry. Okay it takes me several trips to the incubator ferrying my fuzzy little cargo. Change their water, add feed and adjust the heat lamp. Onto the next thing, turn the goose eggs in the other incubator, then it's out the back door with the buckets of feed for everyone outside. As I pass by the coffee maker I can grab a cup, Bruce always makes the morning coffee before he goes out to fill the big waters for the birds. Our paths cross out in the back yard, exchanging morning greetings, Bruce tells me that the goose will not get off a nest, and I'm off to the barn to remedy this situation.

Since I'm a huge multi-tasker, on my way to the barn I need to fill the food troughs for the birds. I'm almost to the first building and something is bouncing off my legs. Pepi is sneak attacking me leaving little perforation marks up and down my shins. Pepi is our bantam Millie Fleur with a serious attitude problem. Using my pail I block his next attack and then I start chasing him. I stop, he stops, while I'm turning around to go back to filling feeders I hear his little feet scurrying across the yard to attack me again. Spinning around I block pepi with the pail and reach down to grab the evil little bugger. Pepi eludes me scurrying off just out of my reach, slowly I turn back to what I was doing, and here he comes again. Now I'm reduced to a screaming lunatic, chasseing Pepi through the yard, in my jammies. The neighbors must love this. Finally Pepi gives up and I make it to the barn, a little bloody but I make it there.

Hansel and Gretel are our very large Emden geese. We had to take Gretel's nest away and stash the eggs in the incubator; Hansel had decided to kill any bird that went near her nest. Now Gretel has found a nest to steal with a few duck eggs in it. Hansel is outside the barn honking, she is in her broody funk, contently resting on her new found eggs. I try to push her off the nest, no luck. Next I decide all I can do is pick her up and carry her out of the barn. That shouldn't be too hard, she seems calm, once outside I can lock her and Hansel out of the barn.Her it goes, I bend down and quickly wrap my arms around Gretel, getting a firm grip I pick her up. Holy crap, obviously I did not realize how big she is. Having a good grip on her, my face is smashed against her back, she starts kicking I start running for the door. Now she is attempting to flap her wings, kicking wildly, squirming and honking her brains out, my ears are ringing. Hansel starts honking in a panic outside when he hears Gretel's honks. I would recommend that no one ever try this at home or alone. My grip is starting to slip; she is squirming and can almost turn her head face to face with me. The kicking feet are claw at me, she is hissing madly and I drop her outside the barn door just in time and immediately step back in to slam the door before Hansel could get me.

It's a good thing I didn't shower yet, now I'm onto check out Whisky and Clover, the turkey hens. The two girls were still roosting in the main barn, which makes my life a little easier this morning. I have check them daily make sure that there are no injuries to their backs from the toms, Cecil and Dinner mating with them. Whisky's back looks pretty good; she still has a nice covering of feathers, onto Clover. Clover's back is naked, not a feather to be seen. Now I have to reach up and lift her off the roost for a closer examination. This is easier then it sounds, the turkeys are very gentle good nature creatures. Except for being heavy and huge they can be carried around without a struggle. Carefully I pick up Clover and carry her into work area of the barn for her examination. She just looked at me chirping with her big brown eye, wide open and worried. Clover's back did not look as bad as I thought it was, she was doing okay and didn't need her hen guard yet to protect her from those nasty boys. She proceeds to climb all over the work bench checking out the baby turkeys in a cage there, terrorizing them. While she is on her tour of the work bench I notice one of the little turkeys has a bloody head. The cage they are in is so large that I have to put my head half my upper body into the cage to reach the injured bird. I get the bird and tangle my hair in the wire of the opening of the cage, shifting myself I then snag my jammie top on the bottom of the wire in the door way and now I'm stuck in the cage with the turkey in my clutches.

My thoughts are how the hell? Just ten minutes ago I was pretending to sleep, I've hardly had a sip out of my coffee and I'm locked from the inside, in the barn, and snagged to a cage from the inside. Clover is happily chirping and bouncing all over the work bench, normally the birds are now aloud in this area of the barn she is having a blast. Bruce is in the shower and would never hear me, even if he could. So now I'm trying to get my other arm in the cage to untangle my hair out of the wire and yank my top to un-snag it from the cage doorway, with out dropping my turkey. Luckily these guys are still pretty young and don't think eye balls and ears are tasty yet.

I'm out of the cage, I still have my turkey, picking up my pail I'm now trying to shoo Clover out of the forbidden barn zone. Finally I get her out the door after a few laps around the work table; outside the door that darn gander Hansel is still waiting for me. Gingerly I scoot past him, he's calmer now he has Gretel all to himself. First thing I need is more coffee then dump the baby with no skin on the back of its head in the brooder and finish feeding the other birds. I'm almost to the backdoor then suddenly Zilla bounces of the back of my legs.

Zilla is our giant buff Cochin; he has been a little cranky lately. He prefers to have a snack of sunflowers hand fed to him twice a day. Since we have been out of sunflower seeds and Zilla has not been a happy rooster. One of the other roosters had also been beating him up making him was a very unhappy boy. I managed to give away the bully rooster but Zilla still needs some time to calm down, get over his insecurity complex and dam I had better have his sunflower treats!

Spinning around, using my red pail to block Zilla, he only catches on of my thighs with his claws and spurs. Great, now I'm a bloody mess from front to back, top to bottom. Little puncture holes in my jammies, half my hair is in the turkey cage and I'm no where near done with my chores. Sprinting away from Zilla I make it into the house drop the bucket, grab my coffee and head to the sun porch to dump the baby turkey in the brooder. On the porch I realize I need the stupid bucket and the antibiotic gel for the turkey poult. Sprinting back to the other side of the house, I find what I need and head back to the porch. Now I have to catch the poor little turkey again, take it out of the brooder and smear the gel on the back of its blood encrusted head. The little thing is clueless, chirping a long happily, which is good.

With that done I toss it back into the brooder and watch to see how it acts; will it live, is the injury to shocking, does it huddle in a corner, tick tock, tick tock, I have more chores to do. The little bugger starts balancing on one leg and uses the other to scratch at the gel on the back of its head and flops over. OH MY GOD, now I’m having a heart attack, I killed the baby turkey by putting antibiotic gel on its head. The little shit hops back up and proceeds to scratch its head again and flop over. Now her head is starting to bleed, she's scratching, I'm freaking, what can I do to keep it from doing this?

Sprinting back to the other side of the house I retrieve the box of band aids and scissors, maybe I can MacGruber something to protect its head while I'm at work. Meanwhile Bruce is still in the shower, my coffee is slowly getting cold and I'm attempting to put a band aid on a small turkeys head. It took me two tries to realize that a freaking band aid was not such a good idea. The turkey was more frantic to get it off and kept flipping over. That’s when I made an executive decision to put the turkey down and walk away. If it scratches its little brains out that is just too bad.

Grabbing my stupid red bucket, filling it with feed I head out the door to finally finish my chores, Zilla promptly jumps me and now my thighs have matching puncture wounds and claw marks. Calmly crouching down to talk with Zilla and tell him that despite what he has done to my legs, I'm going to wear a dress to work today! Slowly I walk past Zilla to finish my chores; this is after all only the first twenty minutes of my day.

That darn little turkey survived and loves to ride on my shoulder, Zilla still has an attitude problem and my legs look like I jog through brambles!