I’m going stir crazy with all the rain. Yeah I know, we need it. Or at least farmers need it.
Let’s get this straight. This farmer doesn’t. But we live in a valley where it seems to rain a little more than everywhere else. The full force of kunanyi’s weather comes down from Fern Tree upon us.
The moolz are also beside themselves. With the advent of a rainy Saturday morning, the Lovely Deputy took to improving the shelter in the goats temporary abode. It is so wet on our property that the miniature goats could literally disappear in a bog the big moo bears have made. Okay, that’s an exaggeration. But if I can barely pull my gumboot-footed leg from the mud outside the barn then how could they? Midgey, King of the (goat) world, immediately took to higher ground leaving Little One to wedge her sorry self between the pallet which Midgey had occupied, and the roofing iron wall, tail exposed to the elements. In the animal kingdom they say its pecking order, in the human world she’s marginalised.
I think goats might be born under the Pisces star sign. They have feet issues or the goat equivalent. Hoof infections. Midgey was in quarantine a few weeks ago after he was spied feeding on his haunches. Little One and Midgey are now excluded from the mess those heaving bovines have made in the wet earth. But it’s boring. They walk a few metres to the top of their paddock, then a few metres to the bottom. Not much of a life for herd animals who want to join the other four-legged farm creatures. The Lovely Deputy stuffed half a bale of hay in their new home and Midgey, beside himself with boredom, proceeded to throw his body fully across the threshold in despair.
Good weather for ducks? Drake was last seen 24 hours ago with is beak wedged in his back feathers trying to tough it out. He’s run for shelter. Jemima’s hanging out with the chickens and is coping a little better.
Mud and cow dung are a potent combination. Stinky. The moo bears are slopping around with future garden grower oozing up between their hooves, hay stuck to their wet heads and bedraggled. And because they have no boundaries and basically poo where they sleep, they’re running out of dry shelter. It’s despairing.
I took a break from the slush and went for yum cha. One kilometre out of our valley the sun was trying to break through. One kilometre.
Looking out the window now, the rain has really set in again. When will it end?
For more on #Blissfarm, here’s my moaning and groaning about last year’s rain – almost to the day – Winter on #Blissfarm.