Rosie the Chicken

For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, declares the Lord God; so turn, and live. - Ezekiel 18:32


So I have this chicken…

My dog is a known lover of chickens.  His name is Lucky, but occasionally he turns into his alter-ego, El Diablo, and kills and eats one of my chickens that has gotten out.  Or my ducks.  Or random bunnies.  He’s a meat eater by nature.  It’s no fault of his own that they are delicious.

So we keep the dog separate from the chickens at all possible moments and keep the chickens’ wings trimmed to minimize their flying over the fence and into enemy territory. 

But…

A couple of months ago I noticed we had a regularly out black hen.  Her morning trek takes her over her own fence, across the backyard, over the dog’s fence and into his pen, where she looks for a morning snack of june bugs that have drown in his swimming pool overnight.  Several times we’ve come home to find the chicken and dog in the dog pen.  So far, El Diablo has been ignoring the deliciousness of said chicken.

This morning she was perusing the selection of my garden and its fallen tomatoes and was selecting her breakfast from bugs under the oak tree. 

Our chicken reminds me of the hen from the children’s book Rosie’s Walk.  Our dog is the fox.  In the book Rosie takes quite a perilous walk about the farm with the fox always hiding in the bushes watching the chicken. 

Our chicken is brave.

And bold. 

And perhaps a little oblivious.
 

Just like Rosie...  So that shall be her name. 

Merry Pig-mas!

So yesterday, the kids got an invite to a friend’s house for a few hours in the afternoon.  I dropped them off around two and that gave me three hours to wrap presents and finish up Christmas stuff, since I’d been sick all week with an unidentified flu-like illness.  The friend lives just around the corner, so I drove down the side of our pasture on my way to drop them off.  The horses were over by the fence and I noticed Sugar and Lucky were by the horses.  Lucky was supposed to be in his pen, so I wondered how he got out, but there was another dog there too, wasn’t there? 

I got home, put Lucky up and commenced to wrapping presents and watching HGTV upstairs in my bedroom.  After about an hour, my back could take no more, so I went downstairs and had a little break checking Facebook. 

My neighbor wrote: Just finished the big neighborhood pig roundup.  My Christmas present to you Mickie.  :)  

To which I replied: Are you freaking kidding me?

Lucy, the WonderPig, had apparently had enough of the confined life and decided to take a tour around the neighborhood.  She ended up in Sugar’s backyard and thank goodness my neighbor saw her.  He and his family rounded her up and brought her back home to her pen behind the barn.  She’d apparently worked on the cattle panels that make up the fence on the west side of the barn and pushed them so that they looked more like a teepee propped up on the telephone poles that are the infrastructure of the barn. 

This just after Wednesday, when she decided to heck with the chain link gate and shoved her way right out of it.  We now have chains on everything around here.  It’s like Alcatraz for animals. 

On Wednesday, she stayed in the backyard, while I ran around her in circles screaming at the kids to “get the dogs”, “come help me”, “NO!”, “get out of the WAY!!”  Nothing puts me in a panicked, screaming mood like a loose animal.  I’m surprised someone didn’t call the cops, thinking someone was being murdered over here.   

What we learned on Wednesday was to always hook the chain on the gate, and that I run about as fast as a 3 ½ month old pig. 

Anyway, my neighbor must have been quieter in his escapades, or I had the TV turned up way too loud, because I was totally oblivious to the whole situation! 

I wrapped up my wrapping and covered my tracks and then headed out to check on the barn situation.  The entire 20 ft. or so made up of cattle panels was leaning precariously.  There was a foot wide gap at one end that I thought the pig could have surely fit easily through, so I thought she was out again! 

Please God, don’t let the pig be out again!

“Luuuccccyyyy…” I called.

And out steps a very sleepy pig from the chicken house where she sleeps.  She’d been taking a nap!  Too much excitement, I guess. 

So I corral her back in the chicken house and lock her in so she won’t be doing any escaping before I get the fence put back up and wired in place.  Sounds easier than it really was…

By this time, I had to go pick up the kids.  I told the mom over there about the pig escape.  Her older daughter and the dad had gone to Wal-Mart earlier and the daughter said, “I saw a pig on our way to the store!  I said, ‘Dad, look, it’s a REAL LIVE pig!’”

Great.

Lucy the pig. 

Neighborhood celebrity.

I don’t know how long she was out, or where her travels took her, but it was exciting nonetheless. 

And embarrassing.

Stupid pig. 

My 9YO and I worked until dark wiring the panels back in place.  I should say we worked until my helper’s hands got too cold and until mine hurt from bending wire in place.  I was feeling like a farmer last night!

This morning, we go out to inspect our pig-proofing.  We also took Lucy an old bowling ball to play with at the advice of another Facebook friend who has raised pigs for years.  Said she might be bored.    

Lucy and Lucky immediately started playing.  Lucy kept head butting Lucky and was trying to bite his tail.  It was funny to watch.  She didn’t think a whole lot of the bowling ball, but gave it a couple of shoves with her nose.

I also had her eat dog food out of my hand and this time she let me pat her back.  I think her whole trip around the neighborhood made her a little friendlier to us.  They say pigs are smart.  Smart as a dog, I’ve heard.  Maybe, just maybe, she had some escaper’s remorse yesterday while she was off gallivanting with the dogs.  Maybe there was a bit of panic in her heart that she was truly lost.  Maybe there was no tussling with the neighbor because she was relieved that someone knew where she belonged.  Maybe she thought “There’s no place like home.”

Maybe we should have named her Dorothy.

Dorothy Houdini.

You Wanna Fight?

I do this thing with Lucky.  It's our thing.  He really doesn't do it with anyone else.  Here's how it goes.

First, he sits and stares at me like this.

And I fail to notice, so he sits and waits very patiently.   Or, he stands and leans his full weight on my legs. 

Come on!  Say it!  he says. 

So I say, "You wanna fight?" with a grovely voice and I shove him over with my foot. 

Then he proceeds to attack my leg with as soft a bite as he can muster with those long teeth. 

So I put my foot on his head.

And he does things like this.

No, that's not blood.  Probably cat food. 

And then he does this. 

Which I take to mean "I surrender!!"

It's really quite the spectacle.  It's become a family favorite.  The kids say, "Mommy!  Fight with the dog!"  And for Mother's Day the teacher passed out one of those "All About My Mother" sheets and the answer for what I did best was "fight with the dog".  Everyone has a talent!

Then Lucky and I have to make up by shaking hands. 

"You're such a good boy! You big dummy!"  I say. 

"Who you calling dummy?" he says. 

Ouch!  Okay, I take it back.  Geesh!   

BFFs

"This is my command:  Love each other."  John 15:17

An update on our pig growing adventure... 

Lucy gets bigger everyday.  Bigger and bigger and bigger. 

She still doesn't think too much of the human lifeform, but she loves Lucky. 

She also loves dogfood.  She may be suffering from an identity crisis. 

Currently, here's how the feed goes at our house:

• The chickens like pigfood. 
• The pig likes dogfood.
• The dog likes chickens. 

It's a full circle of life.... and death.

Anyway, the dog has not acquired a taste for pig ears or pig feet just yet, which is a good thing because she loves him.

They play and run together.  It is really quite funny.  Then Lucky will lie down and Lucy will root him with her nose.  He doesn't think too much of this, but it is fun to watch. 

Sorry for the angle.  She's not aware this isn't her best side.  Or maybe it is!  Isn't that a pork butt?  Mmmm.....  Pulled pork sandwiches.... 

The neighbor dog isn't allowed in with the pig or chickens, so she watches from the outside. 

When Lucky is out but not in the barn with Lucy, she runs the fence and grunts at him when she can see him.

Such good friends are they... 

 
We suspect she will probably be tough from running with the dog and from the kids. 

I'll let you know in a few more months. 

Maybe. 

Lucy

"The pig is also unclean; although it has a split hoof, it does not chew the cud.  You are not to eat their meat or touch their carcasses."  Deuteronomy 14:8

Guess what we got? 

Isn't she lovely?  The kids named her Lucy and then told her we were going to kill her and eat her.  We'll see how that goes. 

This is me pig wrestling with her on her first night. 

My husband really enjoyed it. 

I put the dog harness on her because she was less than cooperative and I didn't want to carry a screaming pig all the way to the barn.  This got her away from my ear at least.  Plus, it gave me something to grab a hold of.  Pigs are kind of like bullets. 

Ever been in a greased pig contest? 

I have. 
I didn't win. 

Lucy became a new roommate for the chickens.  They were scared to death of her.  One chicken was injured in all the uproar.  One pig's feelings were forever scarred. 

The next morning she was a bit more friendly.  We introduced her to the dog.  Lucky initially acted like he was going to eat her, but then decided it would be more fun to play with her.  Unfortunately the pig didn't speak dog.  She just didn't get it at first.  Finally she started chasing after the dog and a beautiful friendship was born.  Lucky and Lucy - BFFs. 

Someone asked me if I could eat my dog's best friend.  Hmmm. 

Only time will tell.

El Diablo

"Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently.  But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted."  Galatians 6:1

Do you have an alter-ego? My dog does. His real name is Lucky. Most of the time he’s a big, sweet, lovable dog.



Lucky likes to just sit by me. He likes to lean on me if I’m not touching him. He lays his big slobbery head on my lap and leaves me looking like I’ve been slimed. He watches the kids and stays with them wherever they might be playing in the yard. He watches the neighbor cows and if they make one wrong move, he’s right up to the fence barking them back into order. When I try to catch Roany Pony, he corners him for me, and miraculously, Roany immediately gives up when Lucky is on the job.


But…


Lucky has another side. One where the day-to-day business of being a good boy catches up with him, and he just can’t help himself. One that says, “It’s okay if I tear up the trash and steal the neighbor’s stuff.” One that has earned him the nickname El Diablo.


El Diablo only comes out when Lucky is without direct supervision. El Diablo knocks over the trash can and spreads a week’s worth of garbage on the lawn in search of a lone McNugget. El Diablo steals the neighbor’s cigarettes and spreads them on my lawn for no good reason. And last night El Diablo stole the neighbor’s solar lamp (see picture) and gave me a weird freak out moment when I saw something glowing on my lawn. The aliens have returned….


El Diablo - chronic kleptomaniac.


The funny thing about El Diablo is that he disappears immediately whenever he’s caught. Lucky is extremely remorseful for anything El Diablo might have done and hangs his head in shame. We go through the “leave it” routine taught to us at obedience class, and Lucky swears with his face that he’ll never touch it again. And that’s been the case with the newspaper he kept stealing from our newspaper holder thingy and chewing up on the driveway.


But even Lucky has his weaknesses. He can’t resist a good chicken on the foot. He can’t resist leftover ice cream or popsicles in the garage trash can. And he can’t be trusted not to drink out of the swimming pool even though the horse’s water would be more convenient, one would think.


It is with those things that the metamorphosis takes place and Lucky becomes El Diablo.


I’m a lot like Lucky. I have an alter-ego named The Napper. I should be more productive. I should do laundry and wash dishes while the kids are at school. I should be well ahead on the task to provide an evening meal for my family. But sometimes the call to Slumberland is just too strong. Sometimes I have to lie down. Sometimes I think it will only be for a minute…


The Napper – borderline narcoleptic.


So what’s your alter-ego? I’m guessing you have one. Might be The Meanie, The Procrastinator, The Whiner. I guess it all depends on what your weakness is. How we act without supervision is just as much a part of our personality as the face we put on for the public.


Now, my secret is out: I’m lazy… but at least I don’t steal!

I'm a good sinner!  Really, I am!! 


And to my neighbor: I’ll put the lamp in your mailbox. Sorry!

Uninvited Guests

As I recently predicted, the neighbor goats have become a nuisance.  They are out nearly every day.  Most days they just hang out in their own front yard, but they've eaten all the flowers of an elderly neighbor, got penned up in the wrong pasture and had to be driven out by none other than yours truly, and have stopped at least a couple of cars trying to cross their path. 

Last night my goat deterrent system was in full force as they were trying to visit me. 

He's pretty fearless.  Well, until they lower their heads and act like they are going to butt him.  Then he runs away.  He waits a while and then tries again.  The goats are just as stubborn. 

They were determined to get into my pasture since we have a small dirt pile that is always fun for "kids" to climb.  My gate is a little low for them, so here's how baby maneuvered the gate. 

First it was lay down. 

Then it was fall over to slide under.  Mama goat just kind of got down and walked on her elbows, or stayed where she was on the other side of the fence, which is where she belonged in the first place!

Eventually they tired of my place and decided to dodge traffic on their way home.  They're pretty good at it since there isn't much traffic. 

Hey, wait a minute, is that little one sticking its tongue out at me?

Is this the equivalent of a obscene goat gesture? 

KIDS today!  Got to be diligent or they'll turn into juvenile delinquents. 

Let's hope my goat deterrent doesn't make friends with the wrong crowd! 

Invasion of the Goats

"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne.  All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.  He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left."  Matthew 25:31-33

After a wild night on the town in Bartlesville, Oklahoma - three games of bowling, eating at Taco Bueno, and visiting the Kiddie Park for what could possibly be the last time due to tall children - I was rudely awakened at 6:30 am by the incessant barking of my neighbor's dog, Sugar, right out in front of my house. 

I'd gone to sleep with wet hair.  Wet short hair.  Thank goodness for elderly neighbors who don't see so well. 

I opened the door. 

"Shut up, Sugar!" I said. 

She lowered her head and looked at me like she was guilty. 

"Git," I said. 

But she didn't move. 

I threw my shoe at her and she decided to go home.  And I went back to sleep. 

Then we all got up at a more decent hour and got ready to go to church where I would be covering Sunday school, so we couldn't be late. 

Woman who says things like "shut up" to a dog and occasionally her own children covering Sunday school.  What will they think of next? 

Anyway, headed to the car, I look around the corner and see this.

So I run and grab the camera before it gets away.  I'm believing this to be the guilty party for the early morning barkfest. 

Then I see the other two.  Mama up by the house, other baby already in the dog pen. 

Very cute, but I don't really have time for a band of rogue goats before church. 

I grab a bucket with a little horse feed in it and try to get them to come over to me.  They weren't interested, but as soon as I walked toward them, they went into the dog pen through the gate.  Our dog was still in the barn and barked from that gate at the intruders who were stepping onto his turf. 

I shut both gates and headed off to church, leaving them the bucket of horse feed.  I was sure when we returned, someone would have come for them and taken them home.  But I was wrong.  I had three goats taking an afternoon snooze in the shade under the tree after church. 

We figured out that they probably belonged to the new neighbors, so we went over and told them we had their goats.  Judging by the escaping frequency of the horses who lived there last year, I expect this to happen no fewer than 25 times in the next 6 months.  Especially if I keep feeding them.   

The oldest boy came over and herded them home. 

I thought it was kind of a funny site. 

Three goats heading home down the street. 

Stampede!!

Not something you see everyday. 

Hope your day too was filled with surprises, or laughter, or little flopping goat ears! 

Play Dates

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” Proverbs 17:17

This is Sugar:

She’s the neighbor dog.


Hater of cats.


Plucker of chickens.


Lover of the kids’ swimming pool when it is hot outside.


She visits us often, but hadn’t been around much lately.


This is our dog Lucky:

Eater of everything.


Killer of chickens.


Lover of cats.


And best buds with Sugar.


Every time he can’t be found, we only have to go as far as Sugar’s house. There you’ll find them chewing on a stick together or ripping apart a blanket or toy.


Unfortunately Sugar has more sense than our dog. He’s a puppy and she’s an adult now. Lucky would follow Sugar wherever she might want to go, which could include crossing a busy street. And he would most likely end up like our last dog who ventured close to that road and is now buried out under the pine tree in the pasture.


So, Lucky is penned up for his own good. But, Sugar came to visit this morning, so I penned her up with Lucky for a playdate. Turns out she’d disappeared from her owner this morning, and she’s in jail until he comes to get her, but I’m telling her it is a playdate.


They’ve enjoyed sharing a snack, biting each others’ legs, chewing up Lucky’s old shoe instead of Sugar’s this time, and watching a movie.


Ok, maybe not the movie part.


But they have been watching the cat. The cat is torn about joining the playdate because she knows how Sugar feels about her.

Turns out, I have a playdate of my own tonight. I’ll be meeting another mother from church at an ice cream shop to talk about what kind of volunteering we don’t have the time for, but would like to head up anyway at the church. Should be a good hypothetical time.  Plus, there will be ice cream! 


I had lunch with my friend last week after taking her to Goodwill on her maiden voyage. She was quite frightened at all the germ possibilities lurking there, of which I hadn’t ever really considered.


I talked to another friend on the phone yesterday.


The truth is it doesn’t matter what you do, or what you talk about, or really even who you spend some time with, so long as you have some company every once in a while.  Whether you love cats, or hate cats, that you’re together is all that is really important.


I’m sure today after my play date I’ll feel “full”, filled with the kind of fullness you can only get from time with a friend.


I’m sure Lucky will feel the same way.


Or maybe it will be the dog food.


It's hard to tell with dogs.