When I counted the hay bales the other day, and after doing the rather rudimentary maths associated with this exercise, which frankly is as far as my mathematics will take me, I concluded that we have enough feed to last through to the end of February. Not long enough. With supplements like beet shreds and alfalfa cubes I can drag that through to mid march.
Still not long enough. So Daisy and I (oh please admire Daisy’s fringe, she is getting quite vain with all her brushing lately) anyway Daisy and I sat down to continue with our sums and she whispered in my ear that she did not want to be mean (actually she did but we will give her the benefit of the doubt) but she is a milking cow and
Queenie is not. So Daisy should be eating almost twice as much as Queenie (according to Daisy) and once again she did not want to be mean, but Queenie is a bit of a pig and eating more than she needs. No offence, Sheila. She said to the pig who was wondering if the notebook I was scribbling in was food,
Can we pause for just a moment to admire Big Dog, he was going with an 50’s Egyptian theme, hence the soft focus.
Daisy has suggested that The Bobby Blanc be isolated from the big sheep so that he can also get his whole quota without Hairy and Mama pushing him out of the way. She has observed some ovine bullying in my absence. Also Mama and Mia are expected to be breeding so in a short while their diet will change too and Bobby Blanc does not get to share their grain. So they have been seperated as well.
Now that I am home we can manage a more high maintenance regime upping the work a little, running things more economically. Maybe we can save some hay. This is the plan anyway. When it gets cold they will all need more to eat.
I’ve got men!
Then last night a friend of John’s called with a question and Our John idly asked him if he had any spare hay. Sure, the fellow said, (John sat bolt upright and made pointing gestures and optimistic hand signals towards the phone). I am selling it for Eight dollars a bale. John’s mouth dropped open … but I can do you a deal. He shut it again. Buy it, I said. Do you have twenty bales? asked John. He nodded to me, the phone to his ear, the guy could spare that much. Twenty more bales with slim healthy animals should get us through to the spring grass. Hopefully we can get it for less than eight dollars a bale though.
Good morning. Why do we panic about ordinary stuff? Things really do have a way of always working out. One way or the other. This is why I am not having a hissy fit about having all these chickens and NO eggs at all. I am unable to cook anything that has eggs in it at the moment. Thats Ok. I have a plan.
Have a lovely day.