Here on the Island of Misfit Toys…err…Critters…

There are days when our little corner of the world starts to feel like the Island of Misfit Toys…except, instead of toys, we have creatures, and they don’t really seem in a hurry to leave.

Still, just from where I sit in our sunroom, I see a one-time alley cat who hates outside, a one-time barn cat who was literally too dumb to survive in the barn, and a German Shepherd with hip dysplasia and allergies to pretty much everything (like me!).  Out in the pastures, I have two mini-ponies rescued from New Holland, an off the track thoroughbred who wasn’t nearly fast enough, and more rescued llamas than you can shake a stick at…  And, in my basement…Turkeys.

Our latest misfits are Turkeys.  I am now officially sharing my home with large poultry (but only until they’re big enough to go outside).

My husband brought them home…

You see, my husband…

Well, some of you are familiar with him…

Let Him Eat Cake!
Let Him Eat Cake!
Kilt Man
Kilt Man
Pilot in Command...
Pilot in Command…

He’s…different…

Erm…I mean complex.

On the one hand, he’s a former professional firefighter, former cop, trained farrier, trained sniper who has been in more intense situations than anyone else I’ve ever met.  (Jeremiah once called me to let me know that he had gotten in a fistfight with a professional boxer who had been beating on his girlfriend…SWAT ended up being called in that day.)  On the other hand, he’s a total goofball and one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever known.  (Such aspects of his personality are lesser known; this post is totally going to mess with his image…)

A few weeks ago, while I was at the office, he was charged with running to the feed store to pick up some of the farm necessities that we always seem to be running out of.  While he was there, he wandered over to the chicks.  All they had were turkeys, and three of them were separated out from the rest.  Apparently, those three were picked on by the other, bigger turkeys, necessitating their move.

As he was speaking with the clerk, a big guy in camo wandered by.  Upon hearing that the little ones in front of him got picked on, he interjected.

“Oh, that’s easy.  If they get picked on you just kill ’em younger.  Makes good eatin.”

And that’s when my firefighter, cop, sniper, farrier husband who forges his own swords said, “Nope.  They’re mine.  I’ll take them.”

Moments later, he posted this photo to Facebook

“Cherity left my unsupervised and they looked sad… I have peeps!”

I’m not sure what we’re going to do with our turkey friends once they get bigger, but I do know they won’t end up on our dinner plates.  This trio is safe.

For now, they’re living it up in the basement…

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Shakin’ their tail feathers…

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And discovering the joy of mealworms.  These guys think Jeremiah is pretty great; they follow him around with enthusiasm when given the chance.

And really, when you have 50+ animals, what’s three more misfits???

P.S. – Welcome to all of you recent subscribers.  I’m so glad to have you here!

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Utter Nonsense

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I present to you, my husband.

Utter Nonsense

I left for Costa Rica, and my husband went on quests and turned himself into a Legolas (yum) /Gandalf (ummm….) hybrid for the week.  And by quests, I mean taking care of the farm and constructing things (like exceptionally apt signs), and by Legolas/Gandalf hybrid, I mean he did so while carrying a quiver and wearing a wizard’s hat.

(Interesting side note: He took this photo by himself using his skid steer as a tripod.)

This photo pretty much perfectly sums up my life.  Here on the ranch, we live at the intersection of adult responsibilities and utter nonsense.

Just yesterday, someone asked me when I possibly find time to “just relax.”  He was astounded that we both work outside jobs while renovating the house(s) and running the farm.  I sort of laughed because that question has a different answer depending on the day.

On the one hand, sometimes it gets to be a lot, and I really question why I’m not the sort of person who goes to the spa or travels extensively, instead of the sort of person whose horses eat all my spare money in the form of hay…

On the other hand, there is a sort of Zen that comes from cleaning stalls, or grooming horses, or walking my fields.  And very little gives me as much satisfaction as a good training session with one of my critters, or watching the flowers that I plant bloom, or making breakfast with eggs I collected from my own chicken coop the day before.

I mean, really, does life get any better than watching a chicken ride a llama???

Joker and Marilyn
When the coop door blew shut during the day, Miss Marilyn took stock of her options and decided that Joker would make a pleasant roost.
chicken and llama
Joker opened the feed room door to alert Jeremiah that a chicken was roosting on his butt. He required assistance to remove her.

(The llama was less amused than we were…He was very polite to her, but Jeremiah said it was clear he preferred his butt to be chickenless.)

These days, things are greening up, and we are starting to shift focus to a whole new sort of work.  Fences need mending.  Our farm road is in need of repair.  The gardens need weeding.  Shearing is just around the corner for the llamas and alpacas.  New chicks are on order to come in a few weeks.  (Sadly, I’ve lost a few chickens to predators this week…but that’s a different post.)  Horses will be starting back under saddle soon.  And hopefully the ponies will start work towards their eventual jobs as therapy animals this year.  There is so much to do, and we seldom check anything off our to-dos without adding more.  But this place and this work is my “relax.”

Come to think of it though, I wouldn’t say no to a nice massage to wind down from “relaxing”…

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