Behind closed doors

The morning routine has had to vary the last few weeks with having a large number of Bernese Mountain Dog pups to look after. So while Tracey has the unenviable task of clearing up the pups nighttime messages and feeding them I go and feed the pigs, horses, sheep, goats, poultry, rabbits and any hangers on we are currently looking after.

Now there are fewer pups Tracey has been able to join me on the outside rush about and so this morning we were both in the tack room where all the feed is stored and put various scoops of feed in a motley collection of buckets for our equally motley collection of hungry animals.

We are trying a new feed, shredded sugar beet. This has to be soaked for 24 hours before use and in the bag smells like a rich chocolate, mixed in the bucket 24 hours later it smelt like, well wet sugar beet, bit of a disappointment there. We are also giving Chaff, which is chopped up straw and hay covered in molasses, a go, well the boys are, now that does smell good enough to eat. So in my defence there were a couple of distractions this morning, couple this with the melee of sheep outside the door does go some way to defending my incompetence.

Anyway, I backed out of the tack room into the scrum of wool and waded towards the gate trying not to fall over in the mud and so be crushed in the riot caused by the sight of spilt food whilst at the same time fighting off sheep who can, given the correct motivation jump quite high, the buckets I was carrying provided suitable motivation and I had to use various body parts to fend off flying sheep.

I finally reached the sanctuary of the pigsty and fed the piglets. They immediately identified the new feed as mud and turfed if out of the trough in their search for the usual pellets they have. Still it was nice to spend a few minutes with them, they are a mental bunch, the jumpiest pigs ever but hopefully they will calm down over the next few months. I decided that as Tracey was helping me I had ample time to water the tomatoes and again it was a pleasant change not to have to rush about but take my time over watering the plants, checking them for bugs and slugs and wandering back along the farm track listening to the the birds and enjoying the view.

Back at the stables there was no sign of Tracey, probably finished off her chores and gone off to get ready for work. I opened the tack room door to put the buckets away and was very surprised to find Tracey sat on a bucket. I realised straight away what I had done. "I didn't did I?" I asked feebly

"Yes you did" she replied, quite cheerily really considering.

I looked at the door to the tack room and huge bolt I had automatically slid into place when I joined the melee of sheep. The bolt that had kept her trapped inside until I had finished dawdling.

Luckily she had kept herself occupied. She had spent the time shouting through the walls to the horse telling them what a prat I was.

Naturally we were late for work again.