Here’s the situation – The Country Boy is going hunting in the great state of Kentucky this weekend. (All male turkeys beyond a certain age best be forewarned.) He has asked me to take care of the mules while he is gone.
Except that means putting them out in the main pasture in the morning and bringing them back into the barn in the evening.
The last time I tried to get the mules into their stalls after putting them out, it took me (along with Mrs. B) 45 minutes and I ended up in the stall while they were in the main part of the barn at one point.
“You can do it,” he says. “It’s easy.”
I forgot to mention that the girls will also be away from the farm this weekend. So it will be just me and the lovely four-legged friends until Sunday afternoon.
My slightly dramatic and very imaginative brain has come up with several possible outcomes:
- While attempting to get Ike into the stall, I get kicked in the head. I am knocked out, the mules run free and no one realizes anything is wrong for 40+ hours. When they finally find me, I have amnesia and recall nothing of my life. I spend hours looking over this blog to remember who I am and how the heck I ended up on a farm.
- Ike and Spike gang up on me. I panic. Spike nips at me, I scream. This causes Donny to buck wildly, knocking me unconscious. I am discovered the next day badly bruised and with bones broken. I am in a full body cast for months and end up with the worst farmer tan in history.
- I decide to leave the mules in the pasture the whole weekend. Late Saturday, they do a jail break and find their way over to the neighbor’s horse’s stall. Once they jailbreak the horse, they all head into town for a wild night of partying. I get a call from the police telling me that my animals were caught mooning cars. Mortified, we decide we need to move away from the area as soon as possible.
- I decide to leave them in their stalls all weekend. When I go in to feed them Saturday evening, I find that they have broken out of their stalls and eaten all of the hay we have stored. Still hungry, they attack me and all that is found on Sunday is a scarf and some cute barn boots.
- And the most unlikely to happen of all – I let them out and get them easily back into their stalls at night. (Ha! I know – SOOOO not possible, right?!)
So, you can see, a lot can happen this weekend and it all hinges on whether I let the mules out of the barn or not. It’s a big decision for a City Girl like me.
I’ll keep you posted on how it goes….hopefully…if I don’t get bucked, kicked, trampled, eaten….