“Damn It! Peckerhead” Part 9
The temps were somewhat warm, if you can call 30 degrees warm, snowing heavily, but the barn chores needed to be done…and the barn needed cleaning! So set off at 6 a.m., shovel, pitchfork and ice chopper in hand to clean the deep, dark cavern before the deep freeze of the weekend sets in. The critters had all been fed, ice chipped from their water pails and everyone should have been content right? Wrong! The homestead doesn’t work that way!
Moving into the barn I run face first into the fluffy flucker who is pissed off that I am invading his turf! I was waiting for the drive-by shooting from the opposing gang…the Peckerhead Mafia. He stares at me as I enter, his beady eyes scoping me out…I stare back and growl. “Don’t you do it you little mofo!” I say quietly. Meanwhile, my buck comes running through, beelining for the door! With one lunge I tackle him to keep him from escape…and we roll around in the shitty hay like were bathing in the stuff, I come up with hay sticking out of my hair like a freakin spiked halo…yes, shit and all stuck in my hair…have you ever tried to comb little black turd balls from your long locks? Yeah, it ain’t easy!
I finally get the buck corralled and shoved back into his pen, tweaking my ass muscle in the process which cramps up about sending me to my knees! Peckerhead is laughing at me, thinking this is great fun and proceeds to jump from his perch and circle around me like a vulture….knowing that in my current state, I can’t freakin move! Seriously, my ass muscle locked into a spasm that paralyzed me! He takes a shot at my leg, I bust him in his chops. The yearling goatie girls are climbing me like a tree…my shovel, pitchfork and ice chipper are all outside the door so I have no weapons…..other than my gloved hands and my temper….swearing, I throw the goatee girls off of me, catch a horn in the cheek, get another swift peck to my leg…and lose it, I come up off the floor like the incredible hulk…roaring!!!!!!
I grab the fluffy flucker and bounce him off the wall, kick the goatie girls in their asses, punch my foot through the door between the bucks and the girls, threatening the bucks if they make one move I will put them into the freezer and sling the water pail out into the dooryard, yes I am two years old again and in the middle of a meltdown! Why oh why is every single chore on this homestead a battle of the fittest? Why oh why do I have a flucking fluffy pterodactyle that wants to eat me?
The barn eventually got cleaned, a little slower than I wanted but cleaned none the less…the animals survived my temper tantrum and Peckerhead is now hiding behind my hay pile, plotting and planning his next ninja attack….yes my friends, this is just a day in the life of this homesteader…and my ass still hurts!Read More “The New Hampshire Homesteader: Nancy Broadley”