Mother’s Day

May. 18 2017
From the Farm

On our Flint Hills farm, the run-up for the day recognizing Mothers included some singular events:

Hazel the pale orange cat got herself secured in the garage overnight. She is unable to ignore an open door, poor thing, and this time the results were not what she intended. Eventually she was released. She was vexed.

Lou, a placid, easy-going cat, was sitting on the porch railing this morning, near the wall where the ship’s bell is fixed. He did not descend for breakfast because he had tied the string from the bell tight around his left front paw and the string was not long enough for him to get to the floor. Lou was vexed.

Three pregnant ewes decided to have their lambs during the same six hour time frame, well after two of their colleagues had produced theirs, and in each presentation the lamb’s muzzle and one foot were in view but the second forefoot was not because it was back in the pelvic inlet. It complicates things when that happens. The ewes were vexed, aloud. The lambs were vexed, but silent.

The shepherd, also vexed, called in the traveling squad of vets from Kansas State University and in due course at 1:30, under a bright full moon, two vets and two senior veterinary students appeared—four women in all, skilled and intelligent and good company—who knew what to do and did it. And so that particular spate of vexation subsided.

We have three ewes yet to lamb on the farm, and one ewe, Teen Mom, who has always had a powerful excess of hormones, who is waiting out her pregnancy at Kansas State. So at this writing, on Wednesday, we are hopeful that matters at hand will not go awry and that come Mothers Day, our peonies and iris will be fully in bloom and that all our creatures will be resplendent.

All of us under the moon. Selene.

Copyright Jerry Wigglesworth, May 2017