Marcel’s Auntie

On the few warm days that we have had so far,  Marcel has gone out into his pen within the sheep’s enclosure. Much to my delight he is never alone and it is Minty who is always with him.  I thought it would be Mama who would take over grandmotherly duties but it is Auntie Minty who stands over him while he sleeps and watches while he eats.  He still comes in to sleep in the barn at night though. But the days he spends outside with his family feel good and right.

Paisley Daisy is still a Cow in Waiting. Her udder is now officially at her knees.  She and I had a long session with the brush yesterday afternoon.  She just stood and soaked it up. Moving back and forth and occasionally bringing her dragons head slowly sweeping down her full body right around to where the brush was for a cheek scratch. She was up and down a bit all day but still very calm. And look at this udder.

Also you will see that one side is higher than the other. The shorter side is the quarter that was badly damaged with last years mastitis.  I will have to work very hard to keep her in tip-top health.

Sheila had a delightful day in the melting mud. This winter has been hard on our pig so it was great to see her being able to dig joyfully again.

Marmalade cannot be kept inside, (though he and all the cats are brought inside at night) he is a tree cat and climbs very high, while Boo watches from below. They have taken to sleeping together again on the verandah in the afternoon sun.

The next few days we are cold again. And very windy. I know I am not the only one who could just SPIT. But there you are, no point complaining about the weather, may as well rage against breath itself.

Last night I checked Daisy a few times,  leaving the dogs inside, dressing gown over my nightie, my big work jacket on top,  bare feet in gumboots. Walking as softly as a cat through the dark barn so as not to wake Alarm Bell Marcel. The full moon catching glimpses through the windows and door cracks of my wild hair and sleepy eyes, hands deep in pockets, legs shining winter white through blown gaps in my night clothes. Wind pitched to whip outside.

Upon entering the dark barn, I pause,  go very still and smell the barn, checking each scent off a mental list, inhaling any change, smelling for a stranger, a new comer and I listen hard to each breath over the wind. Queenie is developing a snore, Daisy’s click and groan as she rolls, Sheila makes a low grunt deep in her bed. A chicken rustles his feathers against his bedmate, clucking gently, peering from below his wing.   I take my little torch from my jacket pocket, after sifting through the knives and nails, wire and string, pieces of worn glass and feathers, clips and hooks, a broken dog leash and a pen and tiny notebook – all the things one would expect to find in a farmers pocket. Identifying each piece by feel until I find the long metal cylinder that brings light. I turn the tiny light on and aim it at the floor like the girl at the movies and in the reflected light I watch Daisy for a while, then I go to the next pen and watch Queenie.  It is quiet and warm, a little precious oasis. That evening I had shut each pen door, a cold wind was howling and the coyotes were howling back.  Both cows and the sheep, Marcel and Sheila, were all shut into the barn so if there had been a calf born between my visits he would not be in a howling draft. I watch and listen and smell. Leaning on the gates, more at home in this great shaking beaten up raggedy old building  by myself with my animals in the middle of another cold blown night than anywhere else in the world. The dark holds no threat for me here.

Satisfied that there was no imminent change. That all was as it should be. That now is not the time for change. I place the darkened torch and my hands back into my heavy crowded pockets, retreat back through the corridors of the barn in the dark,  and lit by a beam of moon shafting through the clouds, like a spotlight in an empty theater just for me, I turn back for the house and follow the light, pushing through the hurtling air, back to bed.

Good morning.

I hope you all have  lovely day.

At  the 4am check  this morning all was well.. I wonder what today will bring. It is almost dawn, off out I go again to start work.

your friend on the farmy

celi