Today Fred turns 44! (It probably doesn’t surprise you to read that I had to stop and do the math to figure that out. One day last week I said “I’m forty… how old am I? Forty-two?”) Happy birthday, baby!!!
Last weekend, we finally got our pigs for this year. We went with the intention of getting two, but a couple of people at Fred’s job expressed interest, so we ended up with a third. The man we get our pigs from is known as “Egg”, as some of you know, so here are some sights from around Egg’s farm.
Cute little baby pigs (these guys were too small to be separated from their mama yet. I did get a shot of their mama – who kept giving me the “Don’t you think about touching my babies!” eyes, but it didn’t come out.)
And, of course, sights from around Crooked Acres.
Thus far, one of them will take a cookie from Fred’s hand, but the other two are too skittish. They wait ’til Brave Pig takes the cookie from Fred, then follow her around, trying to take the cookie from her. They’ll learn soon enough – they always do!
Even though George and Gracie never come into actual contact with the pigs (the pig yard is fenced off), they still get excited when we get new pigs.
This is inside the pig shelter (before Fred added straw, not that it’s been cold enough for them to burrow down inside the straw lately, but still) a few days before we went to get the new pigs. This hen decided this was a good place to raise some babies, so she made a nest, laid a clutch of eggs, and sat on them looking angry when anyone came close. Fred moved her to the maternity yard, and she decided she didn’t want babies after all, and abandoned her eggs.
Dorothy loves to pick fights with Jake, and he puts up with her shenanigans for far longer than you’d expect him to, but eventually he snaps and fights back. Then she gets all “Oh, wah! I am but a wee baby! Please save me from this horrible beast who would pick on a tiny helpless baybeeeeee!”
Dorothy is off to the vet today to be spayed and ID chipped and all that. I’d say y’all should wish her luck, but she will be perfectly fine, and I expect she’ll be racing around here tonight like nothing ever happened.
Maggie’s been getting some alone time this week – not every day, but about every other day, I put her in the room at the other end of the hall and leave her in there for two or three hours. She doesn’t really care for it, I think it worries her to be away from the babies, or possibly she just doesn’t like being in a strange room. The babies don’t even notice that she’s not there until I bring her back in, which is when they gather around her like “Mama! We missed you! WE THOUGHT YOU WAS A TOAD!” and she gets a look on her face like “I wanted to come back in here why, exactly?”
2010: “Zip it. ZIP it. ZIP. IT.”
2009: I HATE HAVING TO DEAL WITH STRANGERS, HAVE I MENTIONED THIS?
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: He’s such a liar.
2005: But by the time I was about three words in to the text message to the spud, I was using “u” and “2″ and “gd” with abandon, and it STILL took me 4-fckng-eva 2 get th gd msg typd n & snt.
2004: I started to answer her, when I realized to my horror that Fred was leaning forward, CUPPING HIS HAND TO HIS EAR to illustrate that he hadn’t heard what she said.
2003: “I breathe oxygen!” “Me too!”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Our first trip to G’burg.