April 8, 2024 • 30 mins
Our story tonight is called New Friends at Weathervane Farm, and it’s a story about a busy Spring morning at the sanctuary. It’s also about branches full of singing birds, fresh straw, and rubber boots, new babies born in the stalls of the barn and helping each other out along the way.
We give to a different charity each week, and this week, we are giving to Agia Marina Donkey Rescue. There, no donkey will ever be turned away; each will be cared for and loved for the remainder of its life.
Subscribe for ad-free, bonus, and extra-long episodes now, as well as ad-free and early episodes of Stories from the Village of Nothing Much! Search for NMH Premium channel on Apple Podcasts, or follow the link below https://www.nothingmuchhappens.com/premium-subscription.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens,
you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolay.
I read and write all the stories you hear on
(00:24):
nothing Much happens. Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We
give to a different charity each week, and this week
we are giving to a Yeah Marina Donkey Rescue, where
no donkey will ever be turned away. Each will be
(00:48):
cared for and loved for the remainder of their lives.
Learn more about them in our show notes. So often
I hear from listeners who fall asleep within moments of
starting an episode. Sometimes they wish they could actually hear
(01:10):
the story. Well, those are some well trained brains, and
I'm really glad that you're getting the sleep you need.
But I want to let you know that Bob and
I made a show just for this, for daytime listening.
(01:34):
It's called Stories from the Village of Nothing Much, and
I think of it as easy listening, but for fiction.
Listen while you're on your commute, out for a walk,
when you need to be centered and calm and surrounded
(01:55):
by the ordinary magic that is commonplace in our village.
It's free. It doesn't put you to sleep, and you
can find it anywhere you listen. Just search stories from
the Village of Nothing Much on your podcast app. Learn
(02:15):
more and subscribe to our premium channels through the links
in our show notes. Now I have a story to
tell you. It is a soft place to settle your mind,
and just by listening to it, it will build a
(02:36):
reliable response in your system for sleep. I'll tell the
story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second
time through. If you wake again in the night, turn
it back on and you'll drop right back off, usually
(03:00):
within seconds. And if you're new to this, know that
this training will improve with use, so be patient and
give it time to work. Our story tonight is called
New Friends at weather Vane Farm, and it's a story
(03:26):
about a busy spring morning at the sanctuary. It's also
about branches full of singing birds, fresh straw and rubber boots,
new babies born in the stalls of the barn, and
(03:46):
helping each other out along the way. Now, turn out
your light, slip down into your sheets, and get us
comfortable as you can. Let your muscles relax and your
(04:07):
whole body drop heavy into the bed. You are about
to fall asleep, and you will sleep deeply all night.
Draw breath in through the nose, soft sigh from your
(04:32):
mouth again, Breathe in and out. Good new friends at
(04:54):
weather Vane Farm. We were up early today, not just
because the birds were having an all comers talent show
and seeing off in the branches, though certainly they were
(05:16):
and had been at it since well before the sun rose. No,
we were up early today because there were a lot
of furry and feathered folks to check on. Our little
(05:37):
farm sanctuary had been growing over the last few years,
from the first goats pig had come here to relax
into their retirement years, to the donkeys, cows, ducks, and geese,
(05:57):
among others who joined us since we'd met and fallen
in love with a lot of animals, and in the
last few days our family had grown even more. We
(06:19):
set out in our barn clothes and rubber boots I
couldn't remember when I'd last worn anything else, and trumped
across the yard. I slid open the big barn door
(06:42):
to a chorus of calls from our residents, who were
all ready for breakfast and to get out into the
sun on this lovely spring day. We usually start garded
with the stalls closest to the door, went in order
(07:06):
down one side and back up the other, and our
animals certainly knew that. But things had changed a few
days before, and we sure heard about it as we
went straight back to the farthest pen. We couldn't help it.
(07:32):
We had baby goats, twins that had been born early
in the morning three days ago. They were black with
a few white and brown spots, and we told them
(07:53):
apart because one, the little girl, had right on top
of her head, a white spot that looked like a
smudged thumb print. I liked thinking about her genetic blueprint,
coding that special part of her while she waited to
(08:18):
be born. We'd had volunteers watching over her mom nearly
around the clock in the days before she gave birth,
and since they had been the ones to go without sleep,
(08:39):
we'd let them name the twins. The little girl was
called Geraldine and her brother Topper. I don't know where
those names had come from, but they seemed to fit
(08:59):
the kids and our farm in general. We went with
the flow here, rolled with whatever came, like the weather
van did up on top of the barn when we
peeked over the edge of the stall. We found them
(09:23):
both huddled with their mom having breakfast. Their mom was
so good and patient with them. I'd been there as
they were born, and even in her exhaustion, she cleaned
them and brought them close. They were thriving under her care,
(09:48):
and I was already a bit nervous about the trouble
these new kids would get into. Goats are just built different.
Of all the animals here at weather Vane, the goats
were the silliest, the cleverest, dare deevils. They climbed on anything,
(10:15):
jumped off everything, tried to eat whatever fit in their
mouths and some things that didn't. And they were also
so sweet and loving. It's just that that comes after
the chaos. Once we checked in with the goats and
(10:42):
had filled the troughs with feed, replenished their water, and
opened the door that led them out into their yard,
we went back to the front of the barn and
started our normal mourning chores. Geraldine and Topper weren't the
(11:08):
only new babies here at the farm, but they were
the ones with the potential to cause the most trouble,
so they got first look of the day in the
stall by the front. We opened the door and ushered
(11:29):
the ducks and geese out into their yard for breakfast.
At the end of the waddling line came a couple
tall fawn and white runner ducks with a tiny row
of ducklings behind them. They were so adorable I couldn't
(11:53):
stand it. I wanted to scoop them up and bring
their downy little bodies close to my face. I resisted.
Their parents were watching closely as each little duck tottered
down the ramp at the front of the barn and
(12:17):
into the grass. They'd spend the morning pecking in the
yard and then testing out the pond as the ducklets
learned to swim. We had several types of ducks here,
(12:37):
but and don't tell anyone this, the runners were my favorite.
They stand upright like penguins, and they really do run
a little clumsily, but still they are speedy. We kept
(13:01):
making our way through the barn, feeding, watering, cleaning, raking
out straw, and bringing in fresh, sweet smelling bales to
replace it. Our cows, Winnie the Move and his mom,
(13:25):
whom we called Frieda, went out to have a good
scratch on the brushes we'd installed on the fence posts.
The pigs were happy to see us and wagged their
tails as we brought their breakfast. That's when the brain
(13:48):
from our coffl of donkeys got loud. They'd been patient
waiting their turn for breakfast in playtime, but they'd had
enough and were he hying loudly. Even before I rounded
(14:11):
the wall that edged their pen, I had a wide
smile on my face. Our donkeys, Bumblebee and Turnip, had
their first fall a month before. His name was George,
and his soft gray fur reminded me of the duckling's
(14:35):
fuzzy down. I went straight into their pen, and they
all crowded around me, begging for pets with their long noses.
If the goats were the silliest farm residents, the donkeys
(14:57):
were the most affectionate. If we'd let them, they'd sleep
in the house with us, curled up trying to share
beds with the dogs. Baby George, still a bit shy,
stood back behind Bumblebee, and only after I'd been in
(15:19):
with them for a few minutes, slowly trotted forward to
have his own head scratched out. We went into the
yard and George ran into the sun since he'd figured
out running. He'd been showing it off, speeding up and
(15:45):
down the length of the barnyard, braying and kicking up dirt.
His anti Muriel, a small donkey whose coloring was for
some reason called roan and broken, meaning brown and white,
(16:06):
trotted after him. She tended to babysit George when they
were out in the yard together, and I was glad
for that. Muriel's eyesight was not very good, and donkeys
often helped their friends at times like those. I guessed
(16:32):
in a year or so, when George was a little
more grown, and when Muriel's sight was a little dimmer,
he'd be leading her out to the pasture, guiding her
to the trough and water barrels. I paused with the
(16:55):
rake in my hands, and stood tall, sting my spine
and looking out at our animal family, the goats jumping
on the picnic table, the ducks floating in the pond,
(17:15):
Frida and Winnie, George and Aunt Muriel. We would have
a wonderful summer this year. New friends at weather Vane Farm.
(17:39):
We were up early this morning, not just because the
birds were having an all comers talent show and sing
off in the branches, though certainly they were, and they'd
(17:59):
been at it since well before the sun rose. Now
we were up early today because there were a lot
of furried and feathered folks to check on. Our little
farm sanctuary had been growing over the last few years,
(18:26):
from the first goats and pig who'd come here to
relax into their retirement years, to the donkeys, cows, ducks,
and geese, among others, who joined us since we'd met
(18:51):
and fallen in love with a lot of animals, and
in the last few days our family had grown even more.
We set out in our barn clothes and rubber boots
(19:13):
I couldn't remember when I'd last worn anything else, and
tromped across the yard. I slid open the big barn
door to a chorus of calls from our residents, who
(19:33):
were all ready for breakfast and to get out into
the sun on this lovely spring day. We usually started
with the stalls closest to the door, went in order
down one side and back up the other, and our
(19:58):
animals certainly knew that. But things had changed a few
days before, and we sure heard about it. As we
went straight back to the farthest pen. We couldn't help it.
(20:20):
We had baby goats, twins that had been born early
in the morning three days ago. They were black with
a few white and brown spots, and we told them
apart because one, the little girl, had right on top
(20:47):
of her head, a white spot that looked like a
smudged thumbprint. I liked thinking about her genetic blueprint, coding
that special part of her while she waited to be born.
(21:10):
We'd had volunteers watching over her mom nearly around the
clock in the days before she gave birth, and since
they had been the ones to go without sleep, we'd
let them name the twins. The little girl was called
(21:34):
Geraldine and her brother Topper. I don't know where those
names had come from, but they seemed to fit the
kids and our farm in general. We went with the
flow here, rolled with whatever came, like the weather vein
(22:01):
did on top of the barn. When we peeked over
the edge of the stall, we found them both huddled
with their mom having breakfast. Their mom was so good
and patient with them. I'd been there as they were born,
(22:25):
and even in her exhaustion, she cleaned them and brought
them close. They were thriving under her care, and I
was already a bit nervous about the trouble these new
kids would get into. Goats are just built different. Of
(22:51):
all the animals here at weather Vane, the goats were
the silliest, the cleverest, daredevil. They climbed on anything, jumped
off everything, tried to eat whatever fit in their mouths,
(23:13):
and some things that didn't. They were also sweet and loving,
It's just that that comes after the chaos. Once we'd
checked in with the goats and had filled troughs with feed,
(23:35):
replenished their water, and opened the door that led them
out into their yard, we went back to the front
of the barn and started our normal morning chores. Geraldine
and Topper weren't the only new babies here at the farm,
(24:00):
but they were the ones with the potential to cause
the most trouble, so they got first look of the
day in the stall by the front. We opened the
door and ushered the ducks and geese out to their
(24:22):
yard for breakfast. At the end of the waddling line
came a couple tall fawn and white runner ducks with
a tiny row of ducklings behind them. They were so
(24:43):
adorable I couldn't stand it. I wanted to scoop them
up and bring their downy little bodies close to my face.
I resisted there. Parents were watching closely as each little
(25:04):
duck tottered down the ramp at the front of the
barn and into the grass. They'd spend the morning pecking
in the yard and then testing out the pond as
the ducklets learned to swim. We had several different types
(25:30):
of ducks here, but and don't tell anyone this, the
runners were my favorite. They stand upright like penguins, and
they really do run a little clumsily, but still they
(25:52):
are speedy. We kept making our way through the barn, feeding, watering, cleaning,
raking out straw, and bringing in fresh, sweet smelling bales
to replace it. Our cows, Winnie the Moon and his mom,
(26:18):
whom we called Frieda, went out to have a good
scratch on the brushes we'd installed on the fence posts.
The pigs were happy to see us and wagged their
tails as we brought their breakfast. That's when the brain
(26:42):
from our little coffle of donkeys got loud. They had
been patient waiting their turn for breakfast and playtime, that
they'd had enough and were he hawing loudly. Even before
I rounded the wall that edged their pen, I had
(27:05):
a wide smile on my face. Our donkeys, Bumblebee and Turnip,
had had their first foal a month before. His name
was George, and his soft gray fur reminded me of
(27:28):
the duckling's fuzzy down. I went straight into their pen,
and they all crowded around me, begging for pets on
their long noses. If the goats were the silliest farm residents,
(27:50):
the donkeys were the most affectionate. If we let them,
they'd sleep in the house with us, curled up trying
to share beds with the dogs. Baby George, still a
bit shy, stood back behind Bumblebee, but only after I'd
(28:16):
been in with them for a few minutes, slowly trotted
forward to have his own head scratched out. We went
into the yard and George ran out into the sun.
(28:39):
Since he'd figured out running, he'd penned showing it off,
speeding up and down the length of the barn yard,
braying and kicking up dirt. His anti Muriel, a small
donkey whose coloring was for some reason called roan and
(29:03):
broken meaning brown and white, trotted after him. She tended
to babysit George when they were out in the yard together.
But I was glad for that. Muriel's eyesight was not
very good, and donkeys often help their friends at times
(29:29):
like those. My guest in a year or so, when
George was a little more grown up, and when Muriel's
sight was a little dimmer, he'd be leading her out
to the pasture, guiding her to the trough and water barrels.
(29:54):
I paused with the rake in my hands, and stood tall,
stretching my spine and looking out at our animal family,
the goats jumping on the picnic table, the ducks floating
in the pond, Frida and Winnie, George and Aunt Muriel.
(30:23):
We would have a busy, wonderful summer this year. Sweet Dreams,
Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone, in which nothing much happens,
you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolay.
I read and write all the stories you hear on
(00:24):
nothing Much happens. Audio Engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We
give to a different charity each week, and this week
we are giving to a Yeah Marina Donkey Rescue, where
no donkey will ever be turned away. Each will be
(00:48):
cared for and loved for the remainder of their lives.
Learn more about them in our show notes. So often
I hear from listeners who fall asleep within moments of
starting an episode. Sometimes they wish they could actually hear
(01:10):
the story. Well, those are some well trained brains, and
I'm really glad that you're getting the sleep you need.
But I want to let you know that Bob and
I made a show just for this, for daytime listening.
(01:34):
It's called Stories from the Village of Nothing Much, and
I think of it as easy listening, but for fiction.
Listen while you're on your commute, out for a walk,
when you need to be centered and calm and surrounded
(01:55):
by the ordinary magic that is commonplace in our village.
It's free. It doesn't put you to sleep, and you
can find it anywhere you listen. Just search stories from
the Village of Nothing Much on your podcast app. Learn
(02:15):
more and subscribe to our premium channels through the links
in our show notes. Now I have a story to
tell you. It is a soft place to settle your mind,
and just by listening to it, it will build a
(02:36):
reliable response in your system for sleep. I'll tell the
story twice, and I'll go a little slower the second
time through. If you wake again in the night, turn
it back on and you'll drop right back off, usually
(03:00):
within seconds. And if you're new to this, know that
this training will improve with use, so be patient and
give it time to work. Our story tonight is called
New Friends at weather Vane Farm, and it's a story
(03:26):
about a busy spring morning at the sanctuary. It's also
about branches full of singing birds, fresh straw and rubber boots,
new babies born in the stalls of the barn, and
(03:46):
helping each other out along the way. Now, turn out
your light, slip down into your sheets, and get us
comfortable as you can. Let your muscles relax and your
(04:07):
whole body drop heavy into the bed. You are about
to fall asleep, and you will sleep deeply all night.
Draw breath in through the nose, soft sigh from your
(04:32):
mouth again, Breathe in and out. Good new friends at
(04:54):
weather Vane Farm. We were up early today, not just
because the birds were having an all comers talent show
and seeing off in the branches, though certainly they were
(05:16):
and had been at it since well before the sun rose. No,
we were up early today because there were a lot
of furry and feathered folks to check on. Our little
(05:37):
farm sanctuary had been growing over the last few years,
from the first goats pig had come here to relax
into their retirement years, to the donkeys, cows, ducks, and geese,
(05:57):
among others who joined us since we'd met and fallen
in love with a lot of animals, and in the
last few days our family had grown even more. We
(06:19):
set out in our barn clothes and rubber boots I
couldn't remember when I'd last worn anything else, and trumped
across the yard. I slid open the big barn door
(06:42):
to a chorus of calls from our residents, who were
all ready for breakfast and to get out into the
sun on this lovely spring day. We usually start garded
with the stalls closest to the door, went in order
(07:06):
down one side and back up the other, and our
animals certainly knew that. But things had changed a few
days before, and we sure heard about it as we
went straight back to the farthest pen. We couldn't help it.
(07:32):
We had baby goats, twins that had been born early
in the morning three days ago. They were black with
a few white and brown spots, and we told them
(07:53):
apart because one, the little girl, had right on top
of her head, a white spot that looked like a
smudged thumb print. I liked thinking about her genetic blueprint,
coding that special part of her while she waited to
(08:18):
be born. We'd had volunteers watching over her mom nearly
around the clock in the days before she gave birth,
and since they had been the ones to go without sleep,
(08:39):
we'd let them name the twins. The little girl was
called Geraldine and her brother Topper. I don't know where
those names had come from, but they seemed to fit
(08:59):
the kids and our farm in general. We went with
the flow here, rolled with whatever came, like the weather
van did up on top of the barn when we
peeked over the edge of the stall. We found them
(09:23):
both huddled with their mom having breakfast. Their mom was
so good and patient with them. I'd been there as
they were born, and even in her exhaustion, she cleaned
them and brought them close. They were thriving under her care,
(09:48):
and I was already a bit nervous about the trouble
these new kids would get into. Goats are just built different.
Of all the animals here at weather Vane, the goats
were the silliest, the cleverest, dare deevils. They climbed on anything,
(10:15):
jumped off everything, tried to eat whatever fit in their
mouths and some things that didn't. And they were also
so sweet and loving. It's just that that comes after
the chaos. Once we checked in with the goats and
(10:42):
had filled the troughs with feed, replenished their water, and
opened the door that led them out into their yard,
we went back to the front of the barn and
started our normal mourning chores. Geraldine and Topper weren't the
(11:08):
only new babies here at the farm, but they were
the ones with the potential to cause the most trouble,
so they got first look of the day in the
stall by the front. We opened the door and ushered
(11:29):
the ducks and geese out into their yard for breakfast.
At the end of the waddling line came a couple
tall fawn and white runner ducks with a tiny row
of ducklings behind them. They were so adorable I couldn't
(11:53):
stand it. I wanted to scoop them up and bring
their downy little bodies close to my face. I resisted.
Their parents were watching closely as each little duck tottered
down the ramp at the front of the barn and
(12:17):
into the grass. They'd spend the morning pecking in the
yard and then testing out the pond as the ducklets
learned to swim. We had several types of ducks here,
(12:37):
but and don't tell anyone this, the runners were my favorite.
They stand upright like penguins, and they really do run
a little clumsily, but still they are speedy. We kept
(13:01):
making our way through the barn, feeding, watering, cleaning, raking
out straw, and bringing in fresh, sweet smelling bales to
replace it. Our cows, Winnie the Move and his mom,
(13:25):
whom we called Frieda, went out to have a good
scratch on the brushes we'd installed on the fence posts.
The pigs were happy to see us and wagged their
tails as we brought their breakfast. That's when the brain
(13:48):
from our coffl of donkeys got loud. They'd been patient
waiting their turn for breakfast in playtime, but they'd had
enough and were he hying loudly. Even before I rounded
(14:11):
the wall that edged their pen, I had a wide
smile on my face. Our donkeys, Bumblebee and Turnip, had
their first fall a month before. His name was George,
and his soft gray fur reminded me of the duckling's
(14:35):
fuzzy down. I went straight into their pen, and they
all crowded around me, begging for pets with their long noses.
If the goats were the silliest farm residents, the donkeys
(14:57):
were the most affectionate. If we'd let them, they'd sleep
in the house with us, curled up trying to share
beds with the dogs. Baby George, still a bit shy,
stood back behind Bumblebee, and only after I'd been in
(15:19):
with them for a few minutes, slowly trotted forward to
have his own head scratched out. We went into the
yard and George ran into the sun since he'd figured
out running. He'd been showing it off, speeding up and
(15:45):
down the length of the barnyard, braying and kicking up dirt.
His anti Muriel, a small donkey whose coloring was for
some reason called roan and broken, meaning brown and white,
(16:06):
trotted after him. She tended to babysit George when they
were out in the yard together, and I was glad
for that. Muriel's eyesight was not very good, and donkeys
often helped their friends at times like those. I guessed
(16:32):
in a year or so, when George was a little
more grown, and when Muriel's sight was a little dimmer,
he'd be leading her out to the pasture, guiding her
to the trough and water barrels. I paused with the
(16:55):
rake in my hands, and stood tall, sting my spine
and looking out at our animal family, the goats jumping
on the picnic table, the ducks floating in the pond,
(17:15):
Frida and Winnie, George and Aunt Muriel. We would have
a wonderful summer this year. New friends at weather Vane Farm.
(17:39):
We were up early this morning, not just because the
birds were having an all comers talent show and sing
off in the branches, though certainly they were, and they'd
(17:59):
been at it since well before the sun rose. Now
we were up early today because there were a lot
of furried and feathered folks to check on. Our little
farm sanctuary had been growing over the last few years,
(18:26):
from the first goats and pig who'd come here to
relax into their retirement years, to the donkeys, cows, ducks,
and geese, among others, who joined us since we'd met
(18:51):
and fallen in love with a lot of animals, and
in the last few days our family had grown even more.
We set out in our barn clothes and rubber boots
(19:13):
I couldn't remember when I'd last worn anything else, and
tromped across the yard. I slid open the big barn
door to a chorus of calls from our residents, who
(19:33):
were all ready for breakfast and to get out into
the sun on this lovely spring day. We usually started
with the stalls closest to the door, went in order
down one side and back up the other, and our
(19:58):
animals certainly knew that. But things had changed a few
days before, and we sure heard about it. As we
went straight back to the farthest pen. We couldn't help it.
(20:20):
We had baby goats, twins that had been born early
in the morning three days ago. They were black with
a few white and brown spots, and we told them
apart because one, the little girl, had right on top
(20:47):
of her head, a white spot that looked like a
smudged thumbprint. I liked thinking about her genetic blueprint, coding
that special part of her while she waited to be born.
(21:10):
We'd had volunteers watching over her mom nearly around the
clock in the days before she gave birth, and since
they had been the ones to go without sleep, we'd
let them name the twins. The little girl was called
(21:34):
Geraldine and her brother Topper. I don't know where those
names had come from, but they seemed to fit the
kids and our farm in general. We went with the
flow here, rolled with whatever came, like the weather vein
(22:01):
did on top of the barn. When we peeked over
the edge of the stall, we found them both huddled
with their mom having breakfast. Their mom was so good
and patient with them. I'd been there as they were born,
(22:25):
and even in her exhaustion, she cleaned them and brought
them close. They were thriving under her care, and I
was already a bit nervous about the trouble these new
kids would get into. Goats are just built different. Of
(22:51):
all the animals here at weather Vane, the goats were
the silliest, the cleverest, daredevil. They climbed on anything, jumped
off everything, tried to eat whatever fit in their mouths,
(23:13):
and some things that didn't. They were also sweet and loving,
It's just that that comes after the chaos. Once we'd
checked in with the goats and had filled troughs with feed,
(23:35):
replenished their water, and opened the door that led them
out into their yard, we went back to the front
of the barn and started our normal morning chores. Geraldine
and Topper weren't the only new babies here at the farm,
(24:00):
but they were the ones with the potential to cause
the most trouble, so they got first look of the
day in the stall by the front. We opened the
door and ushered the ducks and geese out to their
(24:22):
yard for breakfast. At the end of the waddling line
came a couple tall fawn and white runner ducks with
a tiny row of ducklings behind them. They were so
(24:43):
adorable I couldn't stand it. I wanted to scoop them
up and bring their downy little bodies close to my face.
I resisted there. Parents were watching closely as each little
(25:04):
duck tottered down the ramp at the front of the
barn and into the grass. They'd spend the morning pecking
in the yard and then testing out the pond as
the ducklets learned to swim. We had several different types
(25:30):
of ducks here, but and don't tell anyone this, the
runners were my favorite. They stand upright like penguins, and
they really do run a little clumsily, but still they
(25:52):
are speedy. We kept making our way through the barn, feeding, watering, cleaning,
raking out straw, and bringing in fresh, sweet smelling bales
to replace it. Our cows, Winnie the Moon and his mom,
(26:18):
whom we called Frieda, went out to have a good
scratch on the brushes we'd installed on the fence posts.
The pigs were happy to see us and wagged their
tails as we brought their breakfast. That's when the brain
(26:42):
from our little coffle of donkeys got loud. They had
been patient waiting their turn for breakfast and playtime, that
they'd had enough and were he hawing loudly. Even before
I rounded the wall that edged their pen, I had
(27:05):
a wide smile on my face. Our donkeys, Bumblebee and Turnip,
had had their first foal a month before. His name
was George, and his soft gray fur reminded me of
(27:28):
the duckling's fuzzy down. I went straight into their pen,
and they all crowded around me, begging for pets on
their long noses. If the goats were the silliest farm residents,
(27:50):
the donkeys were the most affectionate. If we let them,
they'd sleep in the house with us, curled up trying
to share beds with the dogs. Baby George, still a
bit shy, stood back behind Bumblebee, but only after I'd
(28:16):
been in with them for a few minutes, slowly trotted
forward to have his own head scratched out. We went
into the yard and George ran out into the sun.
(28:39):
Since he'd figured out running, he'd penned showing it off,
speeding up and down the length of the barn yard,
braying and kicking up dirt. His anti Muriel, a small
donkey whose coloring was for some reason called roan and
(29:03):
broken meaning brown and white, trotted after him. She tended
to babysit George when they were out in the yard together.
But I was glad for that. Muriel's eyesight was not
very good, and donkeys often help their friends at times
(29:29):
like those. My guest in a year or so, when
George was a little more grown up, and when Muriel's
sight was a little dimmer, he'd be leading her out
to the pasture, guiding her to the trough and water barrels.
(29:54):
I paused with the rake in my hands, and stood tall,
stretching my spine and looking out at our animal family,
the goats jumping on the picnic table, the ducks floating
in the pond, Frida and Winnie, George and Aunt Muriel.
(30:23):
We would have a busy, wonderful summer this year. Sweet Dreams,
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