Two Miles

And, truly, its a good thing that our closest neighbor lives two miles away. Because our animals have decided that fences are optional...more accurately: pesky and unnecessary. At first, it was just Molly, the older and craftier sheep that we bought at a sale barn (we should have known she was an escape artist back then). Not too long after we let her into the pasture, she figured out that if she crouches way down and ducks her head under the wire, the electric fence won't penetrate her wool, and she can eat the grass On The Other Side. Sweet, sweet Other Side Grass. SO different from that fenced in grass, you know, with the fence and all.

And there she would stand, three feet from the fence, taunting Millie, the younger, bottle fed, more innocent lamb. Patiently, Millie would wait for some Human to walk by and then loudly voice her frustration. We would once again put Molly back in with the Plain Old Grass, and Millie would immediately start prancing around her like "Ha! You thought you could get away with that! Ha! I told the Humans!"

But since those days of innocence and tattling, Molly has taught her protege a few things, and now nearly daily they are out together, roaming the back and side yards, in search of that Other Grass.

And, let's not forget the chickens. Chickens who once roamed free and then one day, when we decided we would rather have decorations other than Chicken Poop on our front walk, we decided they would be penned up around their coop. We *ahem* took care of half of them and after that, the remaining chickens really had no desire to leave the safety of their pen.

But time went on. And what memory a chicken might have fades, and one by one they started flying over their pen. First, in search of the Humans and a replenishment of food or water. But now, it doesn't matter what amenities are present in the coop...food, water, swimming pools, a miniature treadmill...Have you SEEN what's on the Other Side?

The calves, granted, are our fault. They were to be pastured with our lambs for the time being, but the pasture area has a bunch of old wood and such in it (lambs are great for eating down the grass where you can't mow) and apparently nails and other such prickly objects taste like pumpkin bars to cows. Since nails are not pumpkin bars and are actually quite dangerous for them, we decided they should be in their own pasture. But...that fence is not done yet. It's just too nice to keep them inside, though, and Phil came up with a brilliant idea.

"Come see!" he beckoned me one day. "Out back!" So I glanced in the backyard and the two calves were there, eating, each tied to his own tire. "They can drag them a bit to get to new grass, but this will keep them from going very far - and I can put a bucket of water in the tire so they won't knock it over."

This $0.00 solution to the fence problem (for awhile, at least) really appealed to me, though I am sure the neighbors (when they happen out our way) are shaking their heads in disbelief at our little zoo.

I suppose what is so surprising to me is that they really don't go anywhere. They will run around the garden area or through the backyard...but they have never left our property line. I don't think they have even really come close to it. But, I suppose our little area looks like a lush oasis next to the empty corn and bean fields (Weeds! Grass! Glorious bugs!)