Last night was an adventure. It was 75 degrees and the first week of November, so naturally we headed outside to soak it all in. After some usual outdoor fun, we went in search of something else to do.
What started as an innocent trek to see if we had an raspberries left after a few good frosts, we came up fruitless and standing in front of the dry cow field. One of the kids favorite cows, Amanda, is currently dry (not milking in preparation to calve) was up by the barn and before I knew it I had kids going over, under and thru a gate to go love on her.
The big lug only stood for so many scratches before the herd of dry cows was moving on without her. After some last pats she left us. About that time one of the horses was peaking up over the farthest hill from the barn. We are up to 4 of these animals living here at the moment some how. To the kids there’s nothing better than spending time with them.
The animals at our house have access to just shy of 20 acres of pasture. Don’t fear our herd of horses were all the way in the far corner. I’m sure anyone who drove by during that time thought we were quite the troop hiking out. Two kids running out in front, our crazy dogs and me bringing up with rear with a toddler who had to walk. An unclipped pasture with sporadically placed landmines of cow and horse poo led to some interesting babblings from our littlest hiker.
Our saving grace in this whole excursion was our nieces big bay who recently came to stay for a while. Frosty has had too much training and too many ground manners taught to her to be easily corrupted by our band of delinquents. When she heard us she came trotting right over. Then everyone else followed. You don’t want to show your new guest that you’re rude to your owners, right?
After some time the sun started to go down, it was time to head in. I didn’t care to get stuck in the middle of a field with 3 kids who were scared of the dark. The ever independent toddler decided his legs could no longer work, the middle one had stepped in cow poop (barefoot of course) and the oldest one was increasingly whiny thanks to not adjusting to the time change at all.
Finally, we were on the barn drive. It was nothing short of miraculous. No more than I’m done warning the kids to be careful walking on the masses of acorns beneath our feet and I fall. With the immobile toddler in hand. On hands that still have incisions from surgery. I won’t repeat words that may have been said. When it was over Henry and I were still intact.
While I’m picking myself up and dusting off my pride, I hear the yell of “SQUIRREL!”. There is a thriving squirrel population in our pasture and you have to yell out when when you see one. All of a sudden said squirrel falls out of the tree. I’ve watched many squirrels in the almost 8 years we’ve lived here and I have yet to see one to fall from a tree. After more investigation, our “squirrel”, was in fact a 10-12 week old kitten. Before it’s even out of the tree, our resident 6 year old animal
hoarder collector enthusiast is thinking of a name for it and wondering how our cat will take to it. Out of the tree it falls again, this kitten had no grace. I’m fairly certain the noise this animal made upon seeing us and with the speed it darted off with, that was a kitten who belonged to no one.
After the disappointment of no new kitty to take in we finally trudged off to the house to make supper. Our little adventure yielded cow drool on our pants, horse smell on our hands and no new cat in our house.