The venison day

There's been two pieces of learning in our household today.

First, just because the cats don't want venison treats (total rejection being the order of the day), there is NO GOOD REASON to feed it to the chicks. Yes, they'd kill for it but it ain't good once processed. Picture me this morning in the confines of the henhouse - gloves, buckets, cleaning gear. I've gone off the Farmfella in a big way - great idea, not!

Second, if you have small hands, pretend you don't - or go visit the neighbours for the WHOLE morning. The Farmfella may have successfully managed to catch number 19 (poor girl, what a fate to be stuck with that name), but telling me he has the front so the back is mine is not a fair cop. Apparently, his hands are too large to be comfortable up the back end of a ewe, but I can tell you she did not look all that chuffed about mine either. More gloves, armed with a pessary (you have no idea how large those things are) and I'm been sucked into a world I'd rather not visit! Wondered where it would stop as my wrist vanished from sight!

Whew! The day's only started. Thank God for coffee.

Am now avoiding the Farmfella.