Things I Never Thought I'd Say Until I Owned a Farm

I need y’all to understand something before we begin.

I never dreamed of owning a farm full of animals.

Not once.

I could picture living somewhere with land, sure. Maybe a pretty farmhouse, a porch, some flowers, and enough space that I couldn’t see directly into the neighbor’s kitchen.

But animals?

Absolutely not.

When I played The Game of Life as a kid, I wasn’t hoping to land on the little farmhouse with a modest salary and sensible station wagon.

No ma’am.

I wanted to be the actress.

The famous person.

The one making a gazillion dollars, living in a mansion, and driving a car that had never once transported livestock, feed bags, muddy boots, or anything that had recently pooped. 🤣

I wanted glamour.

I wanted luxury.

I wanted the kind of life where somebody else handled the dirty work.

Fast-forward a few decades, and now I’m standing outside in work boots yelling at a turkey named Bernie to get off the roof.

Life really will humble you.

Somewhere along the way, I traded the mansion for ten acres, the sports car for a vehicle with chicken feathers in it, and the glamorous career for unpaid management of the most unprofessional group of employees I have ever encountered.

And now I say things every single day that younger me could never have imagined.

Things like…

“Why is there a chicken in the car like she expects to be in Driving Miss Daisy?”

She wasn’t trapped.

She wasn’t scared.

She was sitting there calmly, waiting for somebody to start the car and take her into town.

Probably had errands.

“Bernie! Get off the roof! You are a turkey, not a gargoyle!”

Bernie spends an unreasonable amount of time on the roof.

Not flying over it.

Not accidentally landing there.

Standing on it.

Supervising.

Judging.

Watching the rest of us like he owns the property and we’re the help.

At this point, if he starts holding mandatory meetings, i wouldn't even be surprised

“Why are the ducks standing in the middle of the road? Y’all don’t even have anywhere to be!”

They’ll just stand there like they’re waiting on traffic to clear before heading to an important business meeting.

No urgency.

No concern.

Just a group of ducks blocking the road while everybody else rearranges their day around them.

“The geese are yelling again. Did somebody breathe too loudly?”

Geese don’t need a reason.

A leaf moved.

A squirrel looked suspicious.

The neighbor shut a car door.

A butterfly crossed into restricted airspace.

Apparently, every event is a matter of ranch security.

“Why are the goats screaming? Nobody is touching you!”

Goats scream like somebody is committing a crime against them.

You walk outside thinking there’s been an emergency, only to discover they’ve run out of snacks.

Not food.

Snacks.

They still have hay.

They still have water.

They’re just emotionally devastated because nobody has personally delivered a treat in the last four minutes.

“If y’all could stop committing felonies before breakfast, I would appreciate it.”

This can apply to almost every animal here.

Escaping.

Breaking into feed.

Climbing onto vehicles.

Destroying something they had absolutely no reason to touch.

And then standing there looking innocent like they’ve never seen that busted gate before in their lives.

“Why are you laying in a thorn bush and barbed wire?  That cannot be comfortable.”

They literally choose to go lay there.

They stay there.

Meanwhile, they all have their own shelters that are nicer than places I rented in my twenties.

“No, you cannot bring that into the house.”

I have said this to the dogs more times than I can count.

Sometimes it’s a stick.

Sometimes it’s something muddy.

Sometimes it’s something dead.

Sometimes I don’t know what it is, and I have learned that ignorance can be a blessing.

“Why are you soaking wet IN THE DEAD OF WINTER?"

The dogs will come back drenched from the river in the back after jumping in for fun when its like 30 degrees out

“Who taught the goat to open that?”

Nobody did.

That’s the concerning part.

Goats come out of the womb knowing how to escape, climb, unlock gates, and dismantle anything you paid good money to build.

You can spend hours creating a secure enclosure.

A goat will look at it for eleven seconds and find the structural weakness.

“Why is everybody running? Who are we mad at?”

Every now and then, the entire farm takes off in one direction.

Dogs barking.

Ducks flapping.

Chickens running.

Geese screaming.

Goats joining in because apparently this is now a parade.

And nobody knows what happened.

Not even them.

“Please tell me that’s mud.”

Sometimes it is.

Sometimes it is not.

Farm life teaches you not to ask questions unless you are emotionally prepared for the answer.

“Stop bullying the delivery driver... and i'm not talking to the dogs"

We probably have notes attached to our address at this point.

Something like:

Proceed with caution. Do not make eye contact with the turkey. Ignore the geese. The ducks may be blocking the road. Packages may be surrendered from a moving vehicle.

The wildest part is that none of this feels unusual anymore.

A chicken in the car?

Normal.

Bernie on the roof?

Tuesday.

Ducks holding up traffic?

They probably have somewhere important to be.

Goats screaming like they just witnessed a murder?

They want crackers.

I never imagined this life.

I didn’t grow up dreaming about livestock, muddy boots, broken fences, or discussing animal poop before I’d even finished my coffee.

But somehow, here I am.

And honestly?

I wouldn’t trade it.

I may not have become the millionaire actress living in a mansion, but I do have a front-row seat to the greatest unscripted comedy show on Earth.

People think farm animals make peaceful sounds.

No.

The goats scream like somebody just canceled Christmas.

The geese screaming like they just heard the aforementioned canceling of Christmas.

The ducks stand in the middle of the road like they’re directing traffic.

The chickens run around like they’ve forgotten where they were going.

The dogs are usually wet, filthy, carrying something questionable, or all three.

And Bernie?

Bernie is on the roof supervising everybody like he’s the foreman of a construction crew that does not exist.

So no, this was never the life I imagined.

But apparently, it’s the one God knew would give me the best stories.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the geese are screaming, the goats are hollering, the ducks are blocking the road, and Bernie is back on the roof.

I’m sure everything is fine.

Probably. 🤣