Farm chores had a mellow rhythm to them this morning. Although accomplished alone, as David is once more traveling, this time to San Diego
The ducks completely enjoy their morning ritual. As I empty the two baby pools, clean, and refill them, they quack loudly and often, scooping up their breakfast mix of mud and water with their wide beaks and shaking their heads from side to side to filter out the ducky goodness. What this is, I don’t pretend to know, but they definitely like it. This past weekend, Jessica, who is a reluctant farmer but was sad to see the animals suffering from the heat, dug a large mud hole in between the two baby pools, uncovering an avian treasure trove of large gooey grubs. As she dug, the turkeys and ducks stood poised with each shovelful, each individual hoping that this time he or she would prevail and be the one to grab the grub. Prey captured, the victorious bird would still have to defend its catch, running hither and there around the pen as the persevering rest chased him down for their share of the spoils. Competition, even among turkeys and ducks, makes for an entertaining spectator sport.
Hopefully, with our combined efforts, the pastoral rhythm is now restored, though I won’t bet the farm on it. The misters begin earlier and the shade tents are inhabited sooner. The chance of thunderstorms has returned this week, and, although we have not yet benefited from any moisture, the clouds move in toward late afternoon, and prevent the temperatures from rising further than 110. The egocentric part of me is saying this is all for a reason, that someone knew my limits, realized they were reached and adjusted the knobs accordingly. The small rational side of me thinks of all the people in the world who are starving from drought and oppression, drowning from tsunamis, and dying from bombs, and knows that I am not any different from them, just in better circumstances. Which side is right? Which side are you on?