December 3, 2020
When I walk out our front door in the morning, our border collie “Claay” races on ahead. She clears the path in front of me (I'm not entirely sure of what) and alerts the rest of the world that I am on the way (in case they need to know). Once she has succeed in whipping the pigs, the chickens and the sheep into a veritable feeding frenzy, she seems content to just lay down and watch me go about my chores.
The pigs who start stirring when the sun comes up and fussing loudly as daylight spreads - are downright hysterical by the time they see Claay coming and hear me rattle the top to their feed bin. It's a cacophony of madness and audible mayhem.
The chickens pick up on the pig induced pandemonium and start to scold me loudly – if for no other reason than there is a whole lot of activity which makes them very nervous, and obviously its my fault.
The lambs, even though they always have plenty of hay left over from the day before – join the ruckus. They are still young so its not too loud, but it is relentless, incessant, and seriously annoying.
All in all, it is a symphony of distress, unhappiness and discontent, so much so that the minute I walk out the door the race is on to feed them all before I completely lose my sanity.
The pigs and chickens settle down once they get grain and their water troughs topped off, but its not until I cut the twine on the hay bales, divide up the flakes and spread them through out the pasture in such a way that each lamb has their own pile to eat- that the silence really starts to settle in.
“Silence of the Lambs” might mean something quite sinister to you – but to me it's truly a beautiful thing, a whole lot of peace and quiet, which gives me the sanity and space to get on with the rest of my day.