The best thing about living on a farm is that it’s never boring. There’s always something to to–usually a long list of things.
The night before last, my search and rescue dog, Boogie, had an allergic reaction to something (I think). In the middle of the night he started scratching and biting at himself frantically. All. Night. Long. Neither of us got any sleep. In the morning, I checked him over with a flea comb, but found none. Gave him a bath just in case, but he’s on Advantage II and has never had a problem with fleas. I haven’t changed his food and to the best of my knowledge he hasn’t gotten into anything. I have no idea what caused it, but it got so bad that he chewed a small bald spot on his tail and both of his ears swelled and got hematomas. I checked his ears–no infection, no mites. Cleaned them just in case. Finally I went out and got some Benadryl for him. Within an hour he was no longer scratching. Now he’s in bed sleeping off the drugs.
As I went to feed my German shepherd dog last night, I realized I had run out of the special enzymes that must be put on her food (she has a serious condition called EPI, long story). Never fear…I keep a stash in a little baggie in the kitchen just for emergencies. I reordered the enzymes for her. That stash should last until the new package arrived. So if you’re ever in my house and find a baggie of white powder in my kitchen cabinet…it’s not what you think it is.
Down in the barn, one of my hens has gone broody. That means she’s actually sitting on a clutch of eggs to make them hatch.
I ignored her for a few days. That was a bad idea. Because when I finally picked her up, I found 16 eggs under her! Hmmm. I’d thought a baby chick or two would be cute. 16? Not so much. Oh well, out here in the boonies there’s always people that’ll take chicks.
You’ll notice I’ve taken a pen and marked the ones she’s sitting on. Now I have to lift her up twice every day and make sure she hasn’t stolen any more! You’ll also notice that most of those eggs are not hers…as evidence by the different sizes and colors.
Meanwhile out in the pasture, my miniature donkey, Mo, has gotten fat as a full tick on all this spring grass.
I’ve cut him off from the feed to keep him from exploding. Unfortunately, he shares the pasture with two mares. He has now perfected the technique of walking under their feeders, hunching his back, and knocking the feeders off the fence. He then runs off the paint mare and eats all her food. He might only be 28″ tall, but there’s a reason I call him “Mighty Mo.”
Ah, life with animals…
I wouldn’t have it any other way.