From a life in the corporate world to a small farm. My new work colleagues eat grass or lay eggs. I've got a lot to learn about things that just seem to happen when nature becomes your new boss.
Wednesday, 21 June 2017
Midsommer Murders have nothing on this place
While Max considers the dinner arrangements, I'm out there committing random acts of violence on his behalf. Keeping chickens also means keeping rats, I've discovered. They'd taken up residence under the chook pen and were only discovered by our yard patrolling Cocker Spaniel inspector Bennie. Chief farmer and husband decides to put rat bait under the hen house far out of reach from anyone other than a rat. The plan appeared to work, until today. One delirious and not at all well looking rodent ventured out to escape the scene of its not such a good idea last meal. And of course Bennie found it. Bennie doesn't quite know what to do with it and as chief mouser was still tucked up in her flannelet high vis jacket laden bed, she offered no instructions. Ordinarily Minnie would hunt out the mice and direct them into the courtyard where she can share the game with Bennie. They go halves. Not as in, here I'll play with it and then you can play next, it's more, here's your half. That game usually ends pretty abruptly. So no Minnie to instruct, Bennie keeps barking at the toxic rodent and I'm worried he's going to pick it up and bite into it. So I quickly pick up a nearby shovel. And I'm not a shovel wielding kind of person either. I hate violence. I can't watch anything more violent on TV than really old James Bond films where baddies just fall to the wayside. So with a heavy blow I land the rat enough spade to cease its pain. And then sincerely apologise to it. But it just looked at me with tail and legs still twitching. I apologise again, and repeat the blow. This time a few less twitches but not the intended outcome. Jeez, this is hard for me you know!! I'm not sure if I'm more horrified at my pummelling an unfortunate creature to death or the fact that I'm incapable of even doing that. Struggling to keep Bennie as a spectator, when he's back is turned I swiftly shovel up the almost dead rat and fling it over the fence into the bushes to die a less eventful death. And I stop apologising. I can't be sorry for something that I didn't completely. do. Two cats you say!!!