DOWN ON THE FARM
Posted: Sun Jan 15, 2012 2:46 pm
A story about a recent House/dog/ chook sitting event my wife and I did for our daughter and family
DOWN ON THE FARM
Last year it was kids we minded, Oscar, Matt and Kate
for twelve days while their parents were away.
This year there’s another story to relate
about our latest baby sitting fray.
Consider Max, a great big dog and three egg laying hens
by names of Dixie Drumstick, Bup and Peck,
ponder that the dog and chooks are hardly bosom friends,
structure in the worm farm and wonder “what the heck”.
Then there was the vegie plot but, it was no real trouble
while truthfully, the worms gave no concern,
t’was Maxie and the girls that kept us at the double
illustrating we had much to learn.
Never having had the need to exercise a dog,
the daily walking schedule was all new.
Forty minutes round the burbs was really no great slog,
however, there’s the matter of the poo.
Now, as I’ve said already, young Max is not real small,
he’s friendly and he doesn’t bark too loud
but, when it gets to dumping, he’s not a one to stall,
his droppings make him stand out from the crowd.
Cleaning up these mountains with a flimsy plastic bag
is tricky as I guess dog owners know,
scooping up all matter while trying not to gag,
having a great need for a back hoe.
So, routine was established fairly early in our stay,
one walking Max and one collecting eggs.
As you might imagine, this happened every day,
we swapped each chore thus, both did stretch the legs.
Not a bad lurk we thought, this living with the fauna,
getting fit and having eggs to burn,
little did we know, there was chaos round the corner,
Murphy’s Law there waiting for its turn.
Day four saw us going out, not home till after five
to find that all the hens had flown the Coop.
Feathers all around the yard, two birds barely alive,
it seems Max had a yen for chicken soup.
Mayhem was in order with vital signs not looking good for Bup
plus Dixie Drumstick frozen in a trance,
sadly, it appeared to us that time for Bup was up,
all in all, we gave her not much chance.
Still, persevere we did, providing loads of TLC
to Bup and Dixie in their hour of need,
and miracles do happen, least it seemed that way to me
for next day they looked well and up to speed.
Max, he got off scot free on the premise “He’s a pup,
getting into mischief when he’s bored”.
A statement not convincing to Dixie or to Bup,
unlucky chicken littles who got floored.
Next thing that we knew, Peck was getting out again
just like Houdini bursting out of chains.
In our view Peck was but a brave or crazy hen
cause Max was still there strolling round the plains.
How was this chook absconding, we couldn’t figure out
despite surveillance all around the Run.
Finally, we found the gap and plugged it with some clout
when Max decided he would have some fun.
“If you can’t lick em, join em” was the tactic Max employed
as somehow he gained entry to the Pen.
Clearly this beat boredom, a game that he enjoyed,
the birds’ demise, we thought not “if” but, “when”.
Surprisingly, Maxie didn’t show harmful intent,
in fact, he seemed to be a bit bemused,
mucking with the girls, no sign of discontent
from he or those we thought would be abused.
Then there came the problem of extricating Max,
retreat not quite as easy as attack,
not seeing how he got in, we couldn’t trace his tracks
though with some heavy lifting, cross the wire we moved him back.
An absolute experience, thirteen days upon the farm,
we learned a lot we didn’t know before.
Even so, I feel we were bowling under arm,
you’d hardly class our efforts as top drawer.
Luckily, our charges did not suffer too much hurt
yet, in future we’ll get eggs from IGA,
little trauma there, no crises to avert
let Maxie and his girlfriends play all day.
Jeff Thorpe
14 January 2010 ©
DOWN ON THE FARM
Last year it was kids we minded, Oscar, Matt and Kate
for twelve days while their parents were away.
This year there’s another story to relate
about our latest baby sitting fray.
Consider Max, a great big dog and three egg laying hens
by names of Dixie Drumstick, Bup and Peck,
ponder that the dog and chooks are hardly bosom friends,
structure in the worm farm and wonder “what the heck”.
Then there was the vegie plot but, it was no real trouble
while truthfully, the worms gave no concern,
t’was Maxie and the girls that kept us at the double
illustrating we had much to learn.
Never having had the need to exercise a dog,
the daily walking schedule was all new.
Forty minutes round the burbs was really no great slog,
however, there’s the matter of the poo.
Now, as I’ve said already, young Max is not real small,
he’s friendly and he doesn’t bark too loud
but, when it gets to dumping, he’s not a one to stall,
his droppings make him stand out from the crowd.
Cleaning up these mountains with a flimsy plastic bag
is tricky as I guess dog owners know,
scooping up all matter while trying not to gag,
having a great need for a back hoe.
So, routine was established fairly early in our stay,
one walking Max and one collecting eggs.
As you might imagine, this happened every day,
we swapped each chore thus, both did stretch the legs.
Not a bad lurk we thought, this living with the fauna,
getting fit and having eggs to burn,
little did we know, there was chaos round the corner,
Murphy’s Law there waiting for its turn.
Day four saw us going out, not home till after five
to find that all the hens had flown the Coop.
Feathers all around the yard, two birds barely alive,
it seems Max had a yen for chicken soup.
Mayhem was in order with vital signs not looking good for Bup
plus Dixie Drumstick frozen in a trance,
sadly, it appeared to us that time for Bup was up,
all in all, we gave her not much chance.
Still, persevere we did, providing loads of TLC
to Bup and Dixie in their hour of need,
and miracles do happen, least it seemed that way to me
for next day they looked well and up to speed.
Max, he got off scot free on the premise “He’s a pup,
getting into mischief when he’s bored”.
A statement not convincing to Dixie or to Bup,
unlucky chicken littles who got floored.
Next thing that we knew, Peck was getting out again
just like Houdini bursting out of chains.
In our view Peck was but a brave or crazy hen
cause Max was still there strolling round the plains.
How was this chook absconding, we couldn’t figure out
despite surveillance all around the Run.
Finally, we found the gap and plugged it with some clout
when Max decided he would have some fun.
“If you can’t lick em, join em” was the tactic Max employed
as somehow he gained entry to the Pen.
Clearly this beat boredom, a game that he enjoyed,
the birds’ demise, we thought not “if” but, “when”.
Surprisingly, Maxie didn’t show harmful intent,
in fact, he seemed to be a bit bemused,
mucking with the girls, no sign of discontent
from he or those we thought would be abused.
Then there came the problem of extricating Max,
retreat not quite as easy as attack,
not seeing how he got in, we couldn’t trace his tracks
though with some heavy lifting, cross the wire we moved him back.
An absolute experience, thirteen days upon the farm,
we learned a lot we didn’t know before.
Even so, I feel we were bowling under arm,
you’d hardly class our efforts as top drawer.
Luckily, our charges did not suffer too much hurt
yet, in future we’ll get eggs from IGA,
little trauma there, no crises to avert
let Maxie and his girlfriends play all day.
Jeff Thorpe
14 January 2010 ©
A great little yarn there Jeff, loved it. Been there, done that. 