My day starts at 4am.
On a good and lucky day, it’ll end around 8:30pm.
Normally though, it’s closer to midnight, sometimes as late as 2am.
Even on a 2am night, the day starts again at 4am.
There is nothing fashionable about my life.
I have been covered in shit and mud.
I have worn blood more times than I can count.
I’ve been slobbered on, bitten, kicked, stepped on and chased by a crabby sow or two. I’ve also been nuzzled, snuggled and had the sweet breath of a mare blown in my face in greeting.
I’ve had my hands freeze, gloveless, in -35*C weather to prove to a Certain Girl I wasn’t going to hurt her.
I’ve cleaned and treated wounds.
In good weather and bad.
I’ve ended the suffering of those who couldn’t be treated…and yes, I’ve cried over every one of them.
I’ve held a weak kitten in my shirt, close to my skin, and heart, in hopes of revival.
I’ve sat under the cold starry sky soothing piggies scared of the bangers a neighbour put out to keep geese off his field. The same piggies who will fill my freezer for winter.
I’ve had full conversations with a cheeky duck who loves to talk.
I have eaten $0.25/package ramen to make sure any extra money goes into animal feed.
I’ve gone without coffee more than once, when a sick, injured, or just plain sucky animal has needed me.
Some days, whiskey just ain’t strong enough.
I chose this life.
It’s hard and messy and sometimes really ugly.
It’s also amazingly beautiful.
Those nickers, squeals, chirps and quacks that call for The Food Lady.
Those mares who tuck noses under my arms to be close.
That cheeky duck and his pal, who follow me, peck me and call me.
The chickens, meaties and hennies alike, who crowd around, knowing that I’ll bring them treats over and above the regular noms.
Pigs who scream for left over coffee, garden weeds and waste, and love those scratches on the forehead so much they fall over happy.
Cats who practice the ancient art of “lap sitting” and even that dog, who loves to roll in the stinkiest things and rub up against me…
My heart, my soul, my spirit…
They belong here.
On the Farm.
I am FarmHer.