Saturday, January 31, 2015

Farmer For a Week

One bright but frigid morning, I rose myself out of bed and donned my "barn clothes" as I had been calling them.  At this point they had a bit of an "earthy" smell to them and a few strands of hay clung to the outsides. I don't mind, I wear it kind of like a badge of honor.  I called for the children to grab their coats and as soon as the car windshield was defrosted we were off to carry out my job as farmer of the week.

Upon entering the barn, I was quickly greeted by the mammoth of a dog named Henry.  His usual greeting of course is jumping up and laying his front paws on my shoulder and smothering my face and coat in drool.  "Good Morning to you too, Henry."

In the background I hear the mewing of a cat.  I like to think that he is crying out in excitement over seeing me again here, and maybe even asking for a few warm pats of the hand.  But I'm pretty sure it was the cat food in my hands that he was most concerned about.  I'm sure I will get my official kitty greeting later, after breakfast.

The ladies of course are waiting patiently for their food, which I oblige.  I need to keep a careful lookout to make sure the ladies don't get to interested in the cats food.  All it takes is one look from the chicken and the cat runs away.

On to the baby of the barn.  This little fellow literally runs through the barn while kicking his heals up in the air.  The other alpacas completely ignore him, being way more focused on the food in front of them.

That is of course until the food is all gone, at which point mama gets real curious about this strange creature all dressed in blue, and standing in her barn.  Luckily, my son seems to have gotten over his fear of larger animals and lets her get real close.  The rabbits look on in approval.

Everyone is fed and watered as well as sufficiently petted.  Off to home I go, knowing I'll be back again tonight.  How my friend does this every day, I don't know, but it may just be worth it for having such loving creatures in ones life.

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