God and tractors

  I have had to learn a lot of new things in the chicken houses. I have learned: fix a feeder if it’s not broken TOO badly. Fix a water line. Troubleshoot and tear equipment down so that when Clint gets home, all he has to do is fix and reassemble. Shovel 2 tons of feed that have spilled inside the house. (It takes ALL day). Troubleshoot a broken fan. Run a complicated computer controller that is basically the brain of the house. Kill a chicken without giving myself carpal tunnel. Fall in a way that I don’t hurt myself or more importantly, rip something out of the ceiling. Cut cracked, leaking water hoses that feed the water lines and replace. Carry, load, and shoot my pistol without wanting to cry at the loud noise. Get the houses ready for baby chicks without walking myself plumb to death.  Explain to the dude at the Poultry Equipment place what I need and that even though I don’t LOOK like a chicken farmer I AM a chicken farmer and I know what I am talking about. Duck under something even if I don’t think I need to (the top of my head bears a few scars) Not sit down and cry if there’s a flood inside the house from a broken water line. I just put my big girl panties on and go to WORK, right after I call Clint (bawling) to come home from his job. I’ve learned not to cry TOO much when there’s a flood, there’s enough water in there already.  I’ve also learned that God is in control. But mostly…I learned to drive a tractor.  

   I am very proud of my tractor driving skills. We never had a tractor growing up and it’s new to me and slightly scary. But it feels natural and useful to drive a tractor with a load on it on a fine, sunny day. I feel accomplished and well rounded. All except for the time I didn’t put the bucket down on the front of the tractor and I left it in neutral, which Clint discovered when it began rolling down the driveway and toward the pond. Or the time we had a HUGE brush hog hooked onto the back and I thought I’d do Clint a favor. He had been up all night with the chickens…they were “going out”, a term which means the company comes and gets them and you get a few days off. So Clint was asleep…it was about 5 in the afternoon and the catch crew left and I thought “ I think I’ll do Clint a favor and let him rest! I’ll go pick up the dead that’s left and he’ll be thrilled!” often…some of the chickens die or get run over by the fork lift. I try to tell them when they are babies to not run toward the light (of the fork lift) but they insist on it. So, often, there are a hundred or so 6-7 pound chickens left dead on the floor. So I went out there, hopped on the tractor and started her up. I had a moment of “should you REALLY be driving this with that GINORMOUS brush hog on the back?” it was about 10 feet wide and very onerous and awkward. When you drive a tractor with this size brush hog, you have to raise it WAY up and sometimes if you hit a bump too fast you will feel the front wheels of the tractor want to leave the ground and upend said tractor.  I ignored my intelligent self and just drove thru the doors of house 3. They slide toward each other to close the house off. I was being SO careful, watching to left and back of me so as not to hit the left door. That’s when I heard CRUUUNNNNCCHHHHHHH!!! and realized I had caught the right door and ripped it inward almost  in half. I was so mad at myself, but thought..ummm….maybe I’ll tell Clint the catch crew did it? so I sucked it up and went on in and picked up the 75 chickens that were left. I turned that big old tractor around inside the chicken house, carefully dodging the feed and water lines we had rolled up to the ceiling.  I was nervous as I headed toward the doors, the sunlight blinding me just long enough to catch the left door and  CRUUUNNNNCHCHCHCH …rip it off, too. I burst into tears and sat there, tractor running, front end loader full of stinky dead chickens. I set the front end down, put the tractor in neutral (see, I CAN be taught)  and climbed down and began to pick the broken shards and giant splinters of wood off of the brush hog. Thru my gritted teeth and tears I vowed to hide the evidence and tell Clint “LOOK WHAT THE CATCH CREW DID!! HOW STUPID ARE THEY?? DON’T THEY CARE HOW HARD WE WORK???”. That’s when I looked up, arms full of twisted metal and pieces of wood, and saw Clint, watching me thru the window of his truck He had awakened to find me gone and knew what I was doing and instantly thought “I better go check on her…” .With the sound of my tears AND the tractor, I hadn’t heard him pull up. Stunned was the only word I could use to describe him, but there are probably others. I looked at him solemnly and said “LOOK WHAT THE CATCH CREW DID!! AND THEY TRIED TO BLAME IT ON ME!!”