Paging Dr. Dolittle

I was wondering recently, what is the number of animals one can have before they become a commodity rather than a member of the family?  I think it's fifty.  I was leaning toward 20 but there are people out there who have that many children and they seem to manage to at least name all of the kids.

My heart still beats a little faster when Noelle comes running down the hill to see me.  I smile from ear to ear when I feel her hot grassy breath on my neck as she nuzzles me. The dogs, while annoying in their competition for my affection, sleep at the foot of the bed every night.  I thought perhaps five cats would be a tipping point, but nope.  I still scoop each one up every day and talk in a sickening baby voice to them. Oh, and they all have names AND nicknames.

When the chicks arrived I was all set to name the layers.  I just assumed I would dote on them as much I did my original five; crouching down for hours watching their antics and hoping they would come hop into my lap. But there are just too many of them and I can't keep track of who is who so they are all just called, "chicken."  Perhaps when we put the roasters in the freezer I will feel differently about my layers, but these chickens are not pets like Jonah, Chicky Rivera and Kyle. They are food, whether meat or eggs. This does not mean they are not well cared for.  They have a very comfortable life with plenty of room to forage, but I have spared them my anthropomorphizing tendencies.

So here I am!  I am finally a farmer!  I have come to terms with the fact that the animals need to stay outside and the people inside (except the dogs and the kittens who "accidentally" end up in the house every day after school).   I no longer lock Noelle in the barn at night for fear of coyotes thanks to Cody Bear.  All the chicks have been relocated out of the guest bathroom to various chicken tractors that move to new ground every morning and I don't feel guilty that they don't all have cute names.  I have to say it is kind of nice to not smell chicken food or find the piece of brie you left out on the counter to soften half eaten in a corner of the living room because a cat absconded with it.  Even the dogs spend the entire day outside watching over the barnyard.

I was enjoying my new role of animal overseer instead of mama to all animals.  If I had a therapist I think she would be proud of the new boundaries I had laid down with my creatures. I was patting myself on the back the morning the husband left for a weekend in NYC.  I soon realized those boundaries had less to do with the "work" I had done on my relationship with my animals and more to do with the fact that the husband has become the primary caretaker of the critters since he has been home and I have been working.

Two of the chicks were in the infirmary due to splayed leg.  What is splayed leg you ask?  God, I love Google.  Seems there are many baby birds who suffer from this problem.  They just can't walk. Their little legs just slide out to the side and they end up face down on the floor like a drunk person on roller skates.  When we were first presented with this problem, I had the boys go online and figure out what to do.  The alacrity with which the jumped in to help was really quite impressive.

"Does she have trouble eating?" Prince shouted.

"No." I responded.

"Breathing heavy?"

"No."

"Do her legs go out to the side?"

James Dean shouted, "Let me go check!"

The answer was yes.

Within five minutes we had a diagnosis: Splayed leg.  With the help of a couple of different Youtube videos and some surgical tape we managed to tape her legs together in a kind of splint.  Within a week she should be walking fine.  I told myself that the only reason we went to this extreme was because we would have been out at least $10 if she died.   It wasn't altruism.  It was the bottom line.

The husband had moved Splayer into the chicken house where the Guinea Keets are now residing and left her in a nesting box with water and food along with a buddy who was also having trouble walking. When he left for the city I went in to check on the patients and found the sad little pair slumped over with Guinea Keets running rampant.  How could I leave them there to get trampled?

 I put my two little chicks back in the tub in the guest bathroom with some water and food.  I managed to redo Splayer's bandage and make one for Gimpy as well. Gimpy was in sad shape.  I really didn't think she would make it through the night.  I went in every couple hours and brought her over to the water to let her drink and then she would lie down again and nibble on the watermelon I left for her.  I was over the moon when I found her alive the next day.  There is something amazingly gratifying about helping an injured animal.  Vet school here I come.

That night we heard gun shots very close to the house.  James Dean came to the top of the stairs hysterically sobbing thinking someone was shooting the dogs.  Did I mention they can be a little annoying?  I hustled the dogs in the house followed by the cats.  Having just seen "World War Z" (great movie by the way) I couldn't risk there being animal killing zombies on the property.

Convinced that my deer like cow was lying dead in the field, I grabbed a flashlight when the shooting stopped and went outside. I saw one set of glowing eyes that belonged to Cody Bear and another that I was hoping were Noelle's.  I managed to get them into the barn and close the door.  Within less than 24 hours I had managed to undo all of the boundaries I thought I had worked so hard to erect.

Everyone made it through the night and are back outside (except Splayer and Gimpy)  I think Gimpy may have a broken wing as well and I should probably just let nature take its course, but she is a fighter and I am going to try my best to get her back on her feet.  Splayer is hopping around eating and drinking. I am hopeful the taping will work so that one  day I might be able to have a house free of animals, but then we will probably find some other injured beast that needs round the clock nursing care.  Thus is life on the farmette.  And of course it is all just for the bottom line.  Running a small farm is very lucrative you know ;)