Pooh to the 2 ~ ( s%*t happens)

           Most everyday, thanks to Facebook, web posts and bloggings, I receive messages from those asking to come see the kids; come pull some weeds; come experience the farm’s peaceful environment. And while I love that my pics are so enticing, the journalist in me worries that I am not properly conveying what Paul Harvey would call “The rest of the story”~

To be clear, there are two sides to this and every story…as for the darling critters I often share, please know there are many facets to this farm living thing. (And the less palatable ones, I dare not take pictures of.)

            For starters, there are the days that bring sadness. I wrote of these particularly in the winter months, when goats had still births and Rosey lost babies (4 out of her 11 to be exact; not uncommon for this breed of dog). I’ve been delicate in posting pics of things Rosey’s drug in (though it was just too tempting not to take a picture of the “claw” of the buzzard she’d been stalking for 3 months—I hate to say it, but the poor thing deserved it; one does not taunt Rosey when it comes to her pups).

            Likewise, out of courtesy, I dare not write too terribly much about bathroom habits around here, but may I just say, some days, it’s the brightest spot of my day, especially as it pertains to my sweet (14 year old) Minsky, who has been in the ER twice here of late for problems relating/affecting thereto.

            (OK. I’m laughing, for as she sleeps (sweet thing); she would die to know I’m writing this about her, but I’m going to just the same. Thank God she can’t read.)

            I had to laugh this morning at how very excited I was in what a friend created a song about in “Minsky-the-pooh” ~ (yes, we now sing when my dog poo’s…Go ahead and save my space at the funny farm…)

            Then again, “poo” is a big part of farm life, and one most everyone around here will talk about once you get to know ‘em well enough.

            While never proper fodder for fine dining experiences, this is where farm life differs, for poo in these parts is downright sacred.

            First off, poo is needed for the garden. When people ask why I have goats I neither milk nor sell for meat, I tell them “They have a job to do.” (In truth, there is no greater garden fertilizer than goat poop; before these guys, Thurman used to loan me poop from his cows; you gotta have something pooping…especially if you want to call yourself “organic”. Around here, we even know which animal's poo is better for what plants. After all, not all poo is created equal.)

            Second off, there is no greater barometer for the health of your critters than to watch out for their poo. For you know instantly when you need to de-worm something, cut back on something or flat out quit giving them something, for they’ll be the first to let you know (not always by telling you, but ALWAYS by way of their poop).

            It’s become a way of life. You step into the pen and if you notice when something/anything is not quite right; you shift your eyes to start looking for the culprit. (Not that the culprit has done anything wrong, but that the culprit might need some help.)

            Yes “poo” was never something I’d dare mention, though here of late (and especially as it pertains to Minks, who is on umpteen meds, which yes, affect her poo-ing habits) “poo” is a topic of much interest both to me and those who know her.

            Changing her diet has helped tremendously. (For those who might likewise benefit from this tidbit of info, turns out pumpkin is the perfect laxative. [Who knew?] We mix hers with kale, to add fiber.)

            As for the goats, if I go too long between “drenches” (i.e. dewormings) they let me know by way of coats that lose their luster or poo that isn’t up to par.

            As dyspeptic as it may seem, you also want to keep an eye out for young puppies as well, as one round of missed meds could net you dehydration beyond repair. In other words, poop not only happens around here, poop matters. (See how I cleaned that up?)

            I find it so typical of our Western, proper mindset to love the cause side of the equation and seldom the effect. Talking about your goals is en vogue; sharing your misses, not so much. Talk about your diet, is all the rage. Talk about the aftermath-- totally uncouth. But on the farm, life is different. We recognize that what goes in, must come out, and it’s not only no big deal to talk about it, it’s downright helpful to keep an eye out for it (not only so you don’t step in it, but moreso, because you care).

            I’ll just come right out and say it.

When it comes to life, s%&t happens.

            And here on the farm, we’re glad it does. (Otherwise, how would we know when to jump in and help?)