Men have it hard.
Last night we arrived home, and I knew that all the birds needed food. When the entire flock follows around the fenceline, it’s a good indicator that they aren’t admiring your blouse. They are communicating, in their bird way, get out here and feed us, [insert bird expletive]. So I quickly changed clothes, feeling irritable about having to go out in the blustery, rainy cold. This is one of the downsides of a farm. No matter how crappy, tired, cranky, sick one feels; no matter if it’s pouring buckets of rain at 3 in the morning, duty requires caring first for the animals. So off I went, little Ms. Duty, to feed and check and collect eggs. The first job is the turkey chicks; scrub the waterer and fill with fresh water, clean feeder and fill with new food, and clean feeder and new food for the adult hen. I made everything ready, and then I went to carry it all back into the pen. To vastly shorten the second-by-second instant replay, I succeeded pouring water from the waterer (lots of it) straight down my boot. My split-second, female logic kicked in: "all this is Ken’s fault, because he isn’t outside helping me". I made sure to tell him that once he came outside, because it’s only fair that he be kept appraised of all the things he did wrong while being totally absent. I have a well-developed theory that with a little thought, almost any occurrence can somehow be blamed on men. Can’t get the PTO on the tractor?–Men designed it. Men built it. A man failed to read my mind and realize that he should be out here, right now, interceding in the constructions of his gender for my personal benefit. See how easy it is?! 
On a serious note, it’s all just a lot of hard work, and I really can’t imagine how much less fun it would be without a guy around to do lots of Guy Stuff. I take pride in being able to do lots of Guy Stuff myself, but there comes a point in life where the desire to stomp on traditional gender roles stops being a competition. It doesn’t matter who does what work, as long as all of it gets done. Besides, MY guy can fix the tractor AND make a chocolate torte that kicks butt. If I had to choose, I’ll go with the chocolate. 
The gopher has toasted a raft of garlic and onions, poppies, and assorted wildflowers 
. It may not be long before I go ahead and make my day 
. We found a head, some guts, and four little rodent feet under the dining room table this week. Couldn’t tell what it was, but I’m hoping the cats focus on the Bane of the Front.
My coworker has informed me of the existence of a product called Sluggo. Which has no metaldehyde, and sends slugs to certain doom. I must purchase this! And it will be so much easier to explain as a pest control to the IRS than cases and cases of cheap beer….
The weather supposedly will change dramatically this weekend, 20 degrees warmer and sunny. The intended projects go on and on….burn the field, plant the tomatoes, sprinkle the sluggo, plant seeds for melons and pumpkins and beans and sunflowers and and and, bait for ants, pull some weeds, till here and till there, have a friend to dinner….wheeee!