Wounded Hand

        Whenever Sugar escapes and can’t figure how to get back, Cocoa bleats.  It’s like an alarm going off to warn us – though that may not be his intent.  Perhaps he feels left out.  Stupid goats.

          I should have probably just left her to fend for herself among the rocks, but I chose to go around and rescue her.  I don’t know what I was thinking.   There is no way I could have thrown the goat over the fence by myself.  Jaime helped me and we both got hurt in the process.

          Her wound wasn’t quite as visible – nor bleeding as mine was. 

It annoys me that the picture gives the impression of paint on my hand.  It’s blood.  I washed it and then took this one.

          I didn’t realize how far the scratch had gone.  Jai apologized that I had gotten hurt.  It wasn’t her fault.  And it certainly doesn’t compare to the injuries I would have received if she hadn’t helped me – or rather I helped her. 

          Her wound was from Sugar while mine was from the fence.  Darn Sugar.

          I noticed she uncovered the area where Cocoa had escaped just a month ago.  He had made it into our back neighbor’s yard – the one who used to house the menagerie – though it’s different people now. It’s a concrete wall!  Mary sent over her grandson to pull him out. 

          If they escape behind the concrete wall again, I’m not climbing the hill and pulling them out.  Hopefully the neighbors behind our yard and Mary’s won’t get upset.  The real hope would be that they don’t go over in the first place.

          Such a weird place for trying to keep protected.

Will Mr. Gobbles Die on that Hill? or Will He Find His Way Home?

         I don’t know where I might have been when the turkeys came into our yard for the first time. I must have been picking the girls up from the farm or dropping them off.  I remember Roland saying the neighbor from behind us stood on our door step with a net and asked permission to go and recapture her turkeys.

The chickens and pigs had made their way to our yard in mid-August but we did not see another turkey until just before Thanksgiving.  Jenna named him Mr. Gobbles.  He had made it through the Thanksgiving holiday but was gone before Christmas.  They have since added a couple of turkeys to their menagerie. A different Mr. Gobbles is currently pacing back and forth on our side of the hill.  He has been there all day trying to figure out how to return from whence he came.

As I mentioned in an earlier post Roland will no longer feed or water the chickens.  Well, he does use the hose on them whereas before he would fill up containers, but not anymore.  They ruined his cucumbers and nearly spoiled our tomatoes – but as our cukes were ruined anyway, we took down the fencing and put it around the tomatoes.

When Randy and Carrie visited, Jenna took Devan out to feed the chickens.  But we had stopped feeding before they left and taken the rest of the food up to Roseburg to feed the ducks.  On Tuesday Roland used the hose to chase all the hens up the hill.  He and the elders used the remaining chicken wire to attach to the neighbors fence to hold back the fowl.  The neighbor gave Roland and basket of eggs which he in turn gave to the missionaries after discovering 20 or so eggs that the hens decided to lay under the tarp that we have over an assortment of odds and ends that were on the deck.

The chickens don’t need to be in our yard anyway.  We are having a back room added to the house and the chickens have a habit of being in the way. Yesterday one of the smaller hens found a way into our yard.  Roland said that he saw one of the brown hens as well.  Today it was Bruce and Mr. Gobbles.  Roland said he squirted both and Bruce finally returned.  Mr. Gobbles remains clueless

The progress on our new room has seemingly come to a halt as we wait for an inspector.  The base isn’t even finished.  I miss being able to hang my towels and swimsuit on the line after I return home from the pool.